Wings and Prayers
by Istalindar
Summary: Hermione is kidnapped at the end of Fifth Year by Voldemort's cronies, and put under the 'care' of Lucius Malfoy. Will she escape or will she find there is more to the Malfoy family than there appears?
1. Chapter 1

Hermione stepped off the train at King's Cross in London and looked around. No sign of her parents.

"Do you see them?" Harry appeared at her shoulder, pressing, a kiss to her neck as he did so.

"No. They may be out in the car. Or late. Something like that." Hermione shrugged.

"Not all your family's just like you, then?" Ron snickered as he got off the train, his trunk bumping along behind him.

"Watch your trunk, Ron. It's not as young as you are." She commented absently. Harry's whistle brought her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see Ron looking somewhat put out. "Oh!" She exclaimed, suddenly realising what she had said. "I didn't mean it like that, Ron!" She added, flinging her arms around him in an extravagant hug.

"Alright, alright!" Ron said, rolling his eyes at Harry over Hermione's shoulder. Harry grinned as Ron gradually darkened in colour before finally pushing Hermione away. "Feeliong the need to breathe, luv." He said. Hermione released him sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"No problem. Though methinks your boyfriend was verging a little on the jealous side." Hermione spun and Harry hastily backed up, hands raised in surrender from his out-going and…_enthused_ girlfriend.

"I realise you love me and me only, don't worry." He assured her. Hermione paused thoughtfully, cocking her head as she regarded him. Then she grinned.

"Good!" Harry sent a relieved look in Ron's direction, but his attention was immediately brought back to his girlfriend. "Hey, guys! Look!" She pointed in the direction of a large group of red-haired people heading in their direction, all of them beaming and waving.

"My god." Ron groaned. "They brought the entire bleeding family!"

"Hey! On the behalf of those who appreciate your family, I take it upon myself to say '_tut_!'" Harry punched Ron in the shoulder. "Incidentally, dead arm!"

"You are so dead you stringy moron!" Ron growled, dropping his trunk and lunging for Harry. Hermione shrieked and dashed out of the way, towards the approaching Weasleys. Ignoring the two boys behind her, Hermione grinned.

"Hi guys!" She gave Mrs Weasley a hug. "How are you? And everyone at home at once. Well, your life must be interesting." She observed.

"You don't know the half of it." Molly Weasley sighed good-naturedly. "How's school been?"

"Wonderful, as usual." Hermione smiled brightly. Charlie brushed past his mother and took Hermione by the shoulders. She looked mildly alarmed at first, but then relaxed. He looked her up and down and gave a low whistle.

"My my Miss Madison!" He said appreciatively. "How you've grown since I last saw you!"

"Hey, Charlie! Leave the dish to those of us who actually know her!" The twins pulled her away and stifled her with hugs.

Ron laughed at the look on Harry's face when he saw the attention the elder Weasley 'boys' were lavishing on Hermione. "Breathe, Harry." He advised. Harry dragged his attention away from Hermione.

"What?" He asked distractedly.

"They know she's taken." Ron nodded in his family's direction. "It's pretty much the reason they're fussing over her."

"You sure?" Harry muttered, watching as Bill picked her up and swung her around, much to her delight, and embarrassment.

"Positive. I've told them all like a zillion times, and plus they all did this to Penelope when Percy brought her home the first couple of times. Drove him mad. Anyway, Charlie and Bill were the worst because they knew her from school already. The twins just worshipped the ground she walked on. Either way, just relax and say hi. They don't mean anything by it."

Harry nodded and shot a thankful look in Ron's direction before resolutely striding towards the extended Weasley family and his flustered girlfriend.

&

Hermione watched as Mr Weasley loaded the last of Harry's luggage in the car next to Ron's rather battered trunk in the boot of the car, then smiled as he turned to look at her.

"You sure you're okay here?" He asked. Hermione nodded with a shrug. "We could wait."

"Nah, it's all good. My parents are in a traffic jam just outside London. They'll be here in like fifteen minutes."

"We can stay. It's not a problem." He volunteered. Hermione shook her head.

"It's okay."

"Come on, Dad! Let's go!" Ron yelled, sticking his head out of the open window of the car. Mr Weasley and Hermione rolled their eyes at each other.

"You better get him home before his accidentally wrecks something." Hermione advised. She watched through the window as a fight broke out in the back of the car. "Or before someone ends up injured." Mr Weasley glanced over his shoulder at his precious car. "Go on, go. I really don't mind. It's totally not a big deal."

"Well, if you're sure." Mr Weasley said slowly. Hermione nodded.

"Really, I'm fine."

"Alright. You coming over later this summer to join the madhouse?" He grinned.

"Sure, why not? Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good. Well, we'll see you later then. Have a good summer, Hermione." She nodded.

"Will do."

He climbed into the car and started the engine. All the windows rolled down and heads and arms and even a foot suddenly sprouted from the sides of the cars.

"Don't forget to write us!" Ron called.

"Please come and save me!" Ginny entreated.

"Later Madison!" Charlie called. Hermione nodded and smiled and waved as the car drove off, then sighed when it disappeared from sight.

"Where are you?" She muttered grumpily, eyeing the entrance to the car park. "Stupid late parents."

She sat on her trunk and drummed her fingers on the top of the wicker baskets containing her unhappily caged monster cat Crookshanks (and she would never, ever admit to Ron that Crookshanks really was a monster cat). He hissed in annoyance, and Hermione looked through the small gaps in the cage.

"Sweetie, are you okay? I know you're unhappy cuz you're in a cage…but grandmommy will be here soon and then we can all go home." She cooed. "How does that sound, Crookshanks?"

"Just perfect." Hermione's head jerked up and she saw a pretty dark-haired woman standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked politely, straightening and turning her full attention to the woman.

"I said, just perfect." The woman smiled, and Hermione recoiled at the way the expression transformed her face and made her look slightly insane. Something hard poked her in her side and Hermione slowly looked down to see polished wood pressed against her ribcage. She looked up and over her shoulder to see the owner of the wand, a rough-looking man dressed like a homeless person.

He smelled like a homeless person too.

"Let's go, Miss Granger." The woman said, her mouth still stretched into the maniacal smile.

"Go where?" Hermione asked as calmly as she could. The wand poked more sharply into her side.

"Not a matter for you to worry your pretty little head about." The homeless man growled. "Now, if you'll just do us a favour and follow dear crazy Madeleine there." The woman, Madeleine, waved cheerily before grabbing Hermione's wrist and pulling her towards a green fiat sitting alone in the corner of the carpark. Madeleine opened the car door and shoved Hermione inside before pushing her over and climbing into the car after her, slamming the door shut.

Something moving caught Hermione's arm and she looked forward to see the driver shake off the effects of a chameleon potion and settle himself in front of the wheel, turning the car on and gunning it out of the car park.

You're going to get yourself stopped, moron. Hermione thought with smug satisfaction. She kept her mouth shut. If they got stopped then she could yell for help, say she'd been, kidnapped. Then this psycho-nightmare could just end.

"Slow down Petrus." Madeleine snapped. "You'll get us stopped." Petrus slowed to a more acceptable speed, and Hermione's heart sank.

"Who cares if we get stopped? What are they going to do, arrest us?" Petrus asked scornfully.

"They'll listen to the brat's predictable cry for help, idiot." Madeleine retorted.

"So gag her." Petrus shrugged.

"Yeah, because that will be _so_ helpful in proving to muggle police that she's here with consent." Madeleine rolled her eyes. Petrus was silent.

Hermione stared out the window, wishing to God that she had asked Mr Weasley to stay and wait with her. Then she wouldn't be in this damn mess. Suddenly a familiar car whizzed past, and she spun, staring out of the rear window and biting her tongue to stop from crying out.

"Is it the cops?" Petrus asked testily.

"Nah. Brat's just seen her parents go the wrong way is all." Madeleine said nonchalantly. She smirked at Hermione, who glared at her. Madeleine casually backhanded Hermione across the face, and Hermione's head hit the window with a sick thud.

"Mad, cut it out. Anyone sees that and we'll definitely get stopped." Petrus barked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

"Stupid bitch." Madeleine muttered. Hermione touched her fingertips to her forehead gingerly, wincing at the throbbing pain there. She looked up at Petrus turned off the motorway onto a private road that became less and less carworthy as they continued down it. Finally he turned into a copse of woods, and Madeleine jumped out of the car and dragged Hermione unceremoniously with her.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded, and Madeleine snapped another backhand across her face. Hermione licked her bleeding lip and said nothing.

"Keep your mouth shut." Madeleine grabbed her wrist and pulled Hermione after her, deeper into the trees. They came to a clearing and Madeleine faced her. "Especially in front of Him." Hermione's heart sank into her stomach and she felt physically sick. There was only one man that someone like Madeleine would talk about in that manner.

Petrus grabbed Hermione's other wrist and grabbed a sheaf of nettles sitting on a nearby trunk. He swore as they stung him, and then the familiar feel of moving through time and space shot through Hermione, and the woods disappeared.

&

They appeared in an antechamber, lit by candles that rested in a huge ornate chandelier that hung above them. Hermione almost felt nervous standing underneath it. The room was furnished with two armchairs and a dark cherrywood table by the window, which gave a clear view of the countryside surrounding wherever they were.

Looks like English countryside, at least. Hermione consoled herself. That's a good sign.

"He'll see you." She looked up to see a dark-cloaked man standing in the doorway, looking over at them. "Bring her."

Madeleine grabbed Hermione's wrist again and dragged her through the door into a large, lavishly furnished room. Hermione glanced around and then saw. Stood by the window was the spectre-like figure that had everyone scared shitless. Hermione's stomach knotted.

She looked around frantically, searching for a way out, but found nothing but big arched windows. And judging by the view from said windows, it looked like the room was at least two floors up.

"Well, well, Miss Madison." Hermione took a step back, skin crawling, at the sound of the slimy voice paraphrasing Charlie's warm welcome. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming and found herself settling into an odd sort of resigned calm. What would happen would happen. It's not like she had any choice in the matter. She might be as scared as hell, but that didn't mean he'd see it. Steeling herself with thoughts of her hero-boyfriend, who had survived not one but five encounters with the Big Bad, she looked up from the white marble floor into the face of Harry's arch-nemesis.

Voldemort smiled as she forced herself to match him stare for stare, clenching her teeth and fists to keep from looking away and giving in.

"You are…brave, Miss Madison. Just like your boyfriend, the enviable Mr Potter."

"He's hardly enviable." Hermione ground out defiantly. There were gasps of outrage all around the room, and Voldemort's smile disappeared.

"Do not speak unless I tell you too!" he snarled, lashing out with a fist and knocking Hermione to the ground. She spat out a tooth that bounced on the marble floor with a _ping_ before looking up. Voldemort stood over her, his face blank as he looked down at her,

"Here, you are at my court. You do what I say when I say, and you do not talk back to me. You will pay me the utmost respect, because you see this?" he extended his hand to her, and over it a glowing golden sphere rotated slowly. She nodded, and he clenched his fist, the golden light winking out instantly. "That represented your life." He smiled toothily. "It's in my hands, and I have no qualms about closing my fist. You're only a mudblood." His smile stretched into a deaths-head grin, extending almost from ear to ear. He stepped back and turned to his black-robed followers. "Take her to her room."

Two deatheaters grabbed Hermione's arms and hauled her up from the floor, then dragged her out of the room and down some stairs. As they went deeper underground, Hermione realised 'room' was the civilised term for it.

The 'room' was actually a rather dark, dank dungeon that appeared to be below the water table, judging by the water trickling down the walls. Hermione shivered at the drop of temperature, and one of the deatheaters grinned.

"Bit chilly down 'ere, aint it?" he commented, his rancid breath blowing over Hermione's ear. She jerked away from him, and he slapped her. "Ah ah ah." He chided. "You gots to behave yourself, don't she?" he looked at the other deatheater, who rolled his eyes.

"Don't taint yourself." He sneered. "Just leave the mudblood in the cell and let's go." They shoved Hermione bodily into the cell and she stumbled ungraciously into the dark room, and the thick wooden door slammed solidly behind her.

Once her eyes adjusted to the dark she looked around, taking in the sparse details of the cell. It was a square cell, which seemed roughly eight foot across, wide and high. The door was thick and black with damp and dirt, though when Hermione knocked on it it seemed very hard, very thick and very strong.

Dammit.

There was nothing in the room apart from the pervading smell of dampness and mildew. Hermione stood in the centre of the cell and allowed herself to breathe freely for the first time, and then promptly wished she hadnt. The room stank. She looked around for somewhere to sit, and found nothing. And she didn't feel inclined to lean against the disgusting walls.

She glanced at her watch. Only 7.30 pm. Two hours ago she had gotten on the train with her two best friends and now she was stuck in a dungeon who knows where waiting for Voldemort to decide to kill her or get on with whatever dastardly plan he had in store this time. Plus, he kept calling her Madison.

Honestly. she grouched, viewing her cell again skeptically. He clearly went to the trouble of finding out about me and Harry and yet he couldn't even get the damn name right. She backed up and gingerly leaned against the wall, feeling the dampness soak through the back of her shirt.

Where was Harry when you wanted him?

&

So tell me if you like it, please. I know I've been away for absolutely ages, but I've been writing in my absence, so I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Next time will probably been Christmas, but that's in only a month (yay!) so you won't, hopefully, have too long to wait. I will also do my utmost to keep writing the unfinished stories I already have up, like Leoli and my many Harry Potter fics, which I started and never finished. Until then, I hope this will tide you over, so enjoy! Istalindar.


	2. a note

Hey guys, just a little author note, though I know I'm not supposed to write them. I've made a huge faux-pas…this story I adopted from Senya Lady of the Serpents because she had run out of ideas. I'm quite happy to keep it going, but I completely forgot to credit her at the start of the story, so I'm doing it here with many many apologies. I am SO sorry for anyone reading this and really thankful to her for letting me have a great time with her ideas.

Thanks Istalindar


	3. Chapter 2

I'm sorry this took so long to get up, but I'm afraid this is it until February I hope you like it. Istalindar

&

Hermione was startled awake by a bucket of cold water on her face. No chance of hoping the whole miserable experience was just a dream – not when her bed seemed rather rocky and her alarm clock dripped down the wall and puddled below her.

She didn't move or even open her eyes. Her body still ached from yesterday's question-and-answer session, and she wasn't quite prepared to have another round. Honestly, suffering from the uncomfortable sensation of having your limbs pulled forcibly in all directions at the same time was hardly incentive to talk about Harry. Every muscle burned, and it was a miracle she had managed any sleep at all.

"Up, brat!" Hermione pain-stakingly opened one eye to see Madeleine, her ever-polite kidnapper staring down at her, an interesting tool dangling from her hand. Clearly Madeleine was trying a new tactic.

"How lovely to see you this fine day." Hermione murmured. "Terribly sorry, but I don't believe I can move this morning." The ridiculous voice was all she could do to up Madeleine. Sure, dear old Maddy could completely cripple Hermione, but she could neither gag nor break her. Otherwise Hermione wouldn't be able to tell them where Harry was. "You might want to join your little torturer buddies and lighten up a bit, eh?"

Madeleine's shoe connected with Hermione's ribs and she gasped at the sudden pain.

"Thought I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Madeleine hissed.

"But then how will I tell you where Harry is?" Hermione asked sweetly. She closed her eye again, and tried to relax to ease the pain. Madeleine grabbed Hermione's chin and dragged her into a sitting position, leaving Hermione slumped against the wall.

"Finally! Tell me where he is!" Madeleine exclaimed. Hermione smiled.

"Neinen, Frau Bitch." Hermione grinned, the smile somewhat gappy due to lost teeth. "Try a new game, Madeleine. This one's getting old." Madeleine growled and punched Hermione in the jaw. Since Hermione was sititng up against the wall her head didn't have anywhere to go and it snapped back into the stone and made an alarming cracking sound before falling forward. Hermione slumped unconscious.

"Bucket." Madeleine said coldly. One of the deatheaters placed a bucket of icy water swimming with ice fragments by her feet within arm reach. Madeleine reached down and picked it up before dashing its contents into Hermione's face. Her head snapped up again, hitting the wall with another sickening crack, but this time she stayed conscious, bringing one aching hand to her eye to wipe away the trickle of watery blood that dribbled from a cut higher up on her forehead from the ice.

"Concussion much?" she muttered irritably. She tenderly touched the back of her had and found it bloody. "See, that's not helping." She commented. "What if I had forgotten-" She stopped talking, her attention drawn to the new character who had just arrived on the scene. All the other deatheaters were bowing to him then stepping back well out of his way. Madeleine turned to face the visitor, and Hermione slipped sideways, sliding down the wall to rest back on the floor again.

"What do you think you're doing in my dungeon, Madeleine?" he asked archly, his voice ice-tipped and deadly soft.

"Your dungeon?" Hermione asked incredulously. Figures.

"Be quiet." His voice was somewhat kinder to her and that in itself shut her up. Since when had _he_ ever been kind to her? "How _dare_ you?"

"The Dark Lord assigned her to my care." Madeleine spluttered. She stalked right up to him, and seemed a little crestfallen to discover that she was quite a bit smaller than he was. "Even you cant negate that!"

"The Dark Lord left my house under my control." He said coldly. "And that includes my dungeons." He looked at Hermione, then back to Madeleine. "When was the last time you fed her?"

"I assure you, I've been well watered." Hermione remarked from the floor. He watched a drop of water drip off her nose into the puddle below her face.

"So it would appear." He said drily. Hermione's eyebrows shot up. A joke? What _was_ the world coming to? He turned to Madeleine. "Our master wants Mr Potter's location when he is not at school." He circled Madeleine like a wolf circling prey. "You're hardly going to discover that if you starve and break her." He slapped her sharply across the face, and Hermione cowered into the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. "Get out." He said flatly. He turned away from her.

"I'll take her with me!" Madeleine insisted. He spun back to face her, and grabbed her throat with one black-gloved hand. She gasped and clawed at his hand.

"You'll do no such thing. She is staying here and that is final, do you understand that?" he hissed. Madeleine merely gasped, her face turning purple. He shoved her to the floor and released her, and she took deep breaths, her hand at her reddened throat. "Get out." She scrambled to her feet and dashed out of the room before turning back just outside the door.

"The Dark Lord will hear about this. And you will fall." She threatened. He laughed, and she glared at him before flouncing off.

"Leave." He turned to the other guards.

"But sir-"

"GET OUT!" he roared. The sound echoed off the walls of the stone room and Hermione covered her ears with her ruined hands and tried to curl farther into the wall. They filed silently out of the dungeon, leaving her alone with him. Her stomach twisted but Hermione kept her face blank. Three months in this fucking dungeon and possibly the only thing she had learnt was how to keep her face wiped clean of any information or emotion.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, crouching by her prone body. She nodded. He held up one gloved hand. "How many fingers?".

"I'm not stupid, you know." She burst out. She immediately shrank back, but the wall against her torso hingered her moving back any further than she already had.

"No, though anyone who didn't know might question that fact." He said calmly. "I am simply checking that you have not lost any basic brain functions. Now, how many fingers?"

"Two." She said sullenly. He arched one golden eyebrow. "And a thumb." He smiled at her, then stood.

"That is remarkable." He commented. "Three months in a dungeon, torture, starvation and mistreatment, and you still dare to use the sharp mind and wit you are so famed for. A lesser man would have snapped."

"Then it's a damn good thing I'm woman." Hermione muttered. He smiled again, and held out his hand. She eyed it warily.

"Come on then." He urged. "I'm not going to bite you."

"That's fortunate." She rolled her eyes. "But much as I'd love to taint your pureblooded belongings, flesh or otherwise, I find myself completely incapable of ruining your day so."

"You don't have to speak like that, you know. Unlike Madeleine, the idea of a mudblood trying to rise above her station doesn't really annoy me. It amuses me, but doesn't irritate me the way it does Madeleine."

"How big of you. But it still doesn't change the fact I'm still pretty much incapable of going anywhere."

"You want to stay?" He asked, shocked.

"Oh, please. Wanting to stay and being incapable of leaving are completely different things." Hermione sighed.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing. Hermione used one hand to brush at the blanket covering her lower body, the tattered filthy bit of cloth that had served as towel, blanket, and just about everything else, but the fabric clung stubbornly to her. He picked at the cloth with a wrinkled nose and plucked it from her body and dropped it in a pile beside her.

"Well, well." He said. Hermione half expected him to finish his sentence with 'Miss Madison' as all his deatheater pals were so prone to do, but he didn't, just stood there and looked at her broken and bent legs, one of which was chained to the wall. Then he said a charm that Hermione didn't know and the shackle blew off her leg with a scream of misused metal, and swirled his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around her before gently lifting her broken body into his arms and carrying her out of the dungeon.

Hermione could only stare at his face.

&

He took her to a room decorated entirely in white. White wall, white curtains over the big french windows, white marble floor, white rugs, white-painted wrought iron canopy bed with white bedding. The light blinded her and Hermione buried her face in his shoulder to get away from it. He smelled of warm things – spice and a deep ingrained smell of woodsmoke. Funny. She'd have thought he'd smell colder than that.

"Close your eyes, I'm going to put you down." He instructed. She did so and he gently laid her on the bed. She felt bereft of his warmth and she cracked her eyes open to look up at him. "Madeleine certainly outdid herself with you, didn't she?" he commented quietly, gently brushing a few strands of Hermione's mad hair out of her face. He reached into his robes and withdrew a shining silver knife, and Hermione drew back into the pillows. "Calm down." He said softly. "I have to cut away your clothes so I can see the extent of the damage so I can fix it." Hermione didn't move, the realisation that there was nowhere to go sinking into her mind. Even if she hadnt been crippled and alone in the house of one of the most famed deatheaters in the middle of the countryside. He wanted to cut her clothes off and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"Hermione." Her gaze flew to his face. It was the first time any of them had called her Hermione. It had always been 'mudblood', 'Miss Granger', 'Miss Madison' or just 'Madison'. She had almost forgotten what her real name had sounded like. "Relax. I'm not doing this for some sick pleasure." He smirked. "You're not really my type."

"Thank God for that." Hermione muttered.

"I just need to know exactly what your injuries are so they can be healed. I don't need a monster like you are now anywhere on my property. Nott can take you if _He_ wants you like this. Now, are you going to relax so I can do this without slicing you?" Hermione nodded dumbly and forced herself to relax.

He slowly peeled the black leather gloves from his pale hands and picked up the blade in one long artist's hand and carefully sliced down the front of Hermione's filthy shirt. The blade passed through the fabric with almost no difficulty, and Hermione's chest was bared, her bra long destroyed by over-zealous rapists. Their bruising handprints still marked her pale breasts. His eyes passed over the marks, noting them then moving on as he cut her sleeves away revealing skin lumpy and discoloured from bruises and broken bones. He started on her battered jeans, cutting them away to reveal her gaunt naked pelvis and groin.

"Your underwear?" he asked softly as he cut down the leg of her jeans.

"Banished. They got in the way of some of your friends' aims." She commented acidly. She briefly wondered why she dared to talk to him like this.

"They're not my friends." He replied as he cut up the inside leg of her jeans. "They're lackeys. Called that because they lack just about everything." He stepped back and raised his wand. Hermione braced herself. "Mobilicorpus." Hermione felt herself levitating and tried to keep still despite the odd sensation of the bed falling away from underneath her. He gathered her shredded clothes from underneath her, then lowered her back down again. "Now." He said. "Tell me as much as you can about whats wrong with you." Hermione stared at him in amazement.

"I would have thought that was obvious." She commented drily. Somehow, odd as it was, lying in front of him as helpless and naked as the day she was born didn't seem to worry her. Mind you, what could he do to her that the others hadnt?

"The bones in my hands, feet, shoulders, hips, knees and ankles are all dislocated. Madeleine thought that the one-by-one approach might make me talk."

"And did it?" he asked as he grasped her foot in his hands and _squeezed_. She gasped as the bones popped back into place.

"No. I was unconscious after my second shoulder." She shrugged with a wince, then gave a shriek of pain as he squeezed her other foot back into place.

"What else?" He asked, looking up at her face. "Besides the rack damage."

"Broken ribs. Jawbone feels sore, not entirely sure how intact it is."

"You're talking well enough." He commented with a nod. "Continue."

"Other parts of me hurt more." She rationalised. "Broken bones in both my legs, my left arm…and I think my skull is collapsing – they were rather fond of banging it against stone walls, like that would improve my memory or something."

"Well…deatheaters are not necessarily known for their brains." He rolled his eyes. "Anything else?"

"Couple of crucios. I think they found imperio rather amusing too."

"Quite a little catelogue you've got there." He commented, gesturing with his wand over her bared body. "On top of those – you were right, by the way – you've got internal bleeding. Your lung is tearing and you've got all sorts of confused organs. So I can fix most of those with magic."

"Most?" Hermione asked, struggling to raise her head from the white pillow and failing. "What do you mean? Magic can fix just about everything!"

"Coupled with potions." He added. "Seeing as I'm not an apothecary, nor do I have the necessaries to make myself one, I shall simply have to fix what I can and do the rest…another way." Hermione nodded, though she wondered what 'another way' was. "So, are you ready?" she nodded again, and he began muttering under his breath, his wand still suspended over her torso. There was an awful sqwelching sound as something happened to her internal organs, and it felt like there was a pit of snakes located in her belly that writhed and coiled under her skin. When it subsided, she sighed in relief. He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised in silent question, and she nodded. "Bones next." He ran the tip of his wand along the inside of both her legs and along the underside of her left arm, and she felt the breaks knitting back together. She smiled in relief, but he didn't return the gesture. "I'm going to realign your joints now, but this will hurt." He warned. She took a deep breath and then let it go.

"Okay."

He started at her hips and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out as her leg bones grated over her hip bones before audibly popping back into the sockets. She let her breath go in a ragged exhale.

"Are you okay?"

"Keep going." She said flatly.

"Ankles." As the bones grated, Hermione groaned through her teeth, her eyes closing and her head falling back onto the pillow. She felt his hand on hers and she curled her disjointed fingers around his, regardless of the burning agony that raced through them at the gesture.

"Shoulders." Again he performed the spell, and Hermione hissed as her grip on his hand tightened, the pain in her hand distracting her from the pain in her shoulders that raced across her shoulders and up her neck. She let out a sigh, and he gripped her hand tightly and her eyes jerked open. "Hermione! Stay conscious." It was a flat order, and Hermione allowed her gaze to lock on his as he partly turned his torso to face her knees. "Last one. Knees." Still holding her gaze he performed the spell and Hermione gasped, her lips parting as she shakily took a sharp inward breath. "Done." He let her hand drop onto the bed.

"Ribs." It was remarkable, Hermione thought, even as she arched off the bed as her ribs knitted themselves back together again, that she was naked before him and he was so impersonal. Granted, she was starved, and bruised, dirty and a mess…Madeleine may be a woman but she was hardly sympathetic, but still. The first (and last) time Harry had seen her it had been the standard fifteen-year-old boy reaction. Silence, awe, horniness. But now…her saviour's cool hands ran the length of her torso, over her hips and down her legs, completely impersonal to the fact that she was, beneath the mess that had been inflicted on her, a pretty young woman. Even if the only place her beauty was currently apparent was the defiant shine in her eyes.

"Just your hands now." He gently lifted her so she was sitting up, leaning against the headboard. He took one hand in his own. "Are you ready?" she nodded, and he squeezed, gently at first, then tightly and savagely and she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt the individual bones in her hands pop back into place. He tenderly laid her hand on the bed and reached for her other hand. She gave it to him, and this time, the pain was immediately as his hand closed, lightning-fast, with merciless pressure. She shrieked at the sudden pain, and then it was over, though her hands still throbbed.

"Is that it?" she asked, from a very dry throat. He nodded. "I thought you said you couldn't fix it all by magic."

"I didn't. your hands and feet will be very sore for quite a while." He shrugged. "It was the best I could do." She nodded.

"So besides them, I'm all better?"

"No. While I managed to fix your broken bones and put the joints back in their sockets, the bones themselves will be very weak for a time. You'll have to go very slowly with them, and be patient." She nodded.

"I can do that."

"Can you? Besides that, you'll as good as need to learn to walk again, how to write. It's not easy."

"I've done this." She said determidly. "I did not just lie through half an hour of agony to lie in bed for the rest of my life." He smiled, and she frowned, suddenly looking thoughtful. "Why are you being so…nice?" He sighed.

"Hermione, something I've learnt that the others havent quite grasped yet is that the whole concept of purebloods and mudbloods is deeply flawed." Hermione gaped at him. "No, it's true." He insisted. "Clearly there is some magical blood somewhere in you, since you're a witch. So clearly mudblood, in your case at least, is incorrect. In fact, the only mudbloods are muggles, and who'd waste time calling _them_ names?" he chuckled. "Anyway, purebloods may not have any muggles or half-bloods sixteen or so generations back, or whatever, but that's not to say there isnt one in the seventeenth generation back, or even the twentieth. Who knows? And blood is blood, regardless. Red, runny…lose too much of it and you die. Simple as that." Hermione couldn't seem to close her mouth.

"You've changed your tune." She said finally.

"Not so much. That's not the kind of philosophy you spout in front of deatheaters. Scourify." He watched as Hermione's skin and hair cleaned themselves, then went to the chest of drawers across the room and withdrew a white cotton nightdress. He turned back to Hermione and slid it over her bare form, his hands cool against her bare skin. "It will take several weeks, maybe even months to learn how to use your limbs properly again." He said, sitting back against the bedpost and watching her calmly. She frowned.

"But why? The muscles are all there, the bones are in working order…what's wrong?"

"The spell weakens them. They'll strengthen again, don't worry. It'll just take time. So in the meantime you have to be careful, and gentle, and patient with them or they could end up broken again." She nodded.

They sat in silence for a while, Hermione taking in her surroundings, conscious of the way he sat there and simply watched her in silence. It was unnerving, the way he just steadily stared at her. Finally, she roused herself.

"What's the date?" she asked finally, giving into the burning quesiton that kept crossing her mind.

"The ninth of September." He answered, his gaze remaining steadily on her face.

"Everyone's back at school, then." She commented. He nodded.

"The Dark Lord has arranged for you to continue your studies, so he has bought all the relevant textbooks you will need, for this year and the next. He has heard of your insistent learning patterns, and didn't want you to be…bored, I think. As soon as you're more able you'll receive those."

"So…hold on." Hermione paused, gathering her thoughts. "So…everyone was at home, then, while I was here."

"Yes…" He paused, his eyes narrowed. Then he understood. "Ah, yes. Yes, Draco was at home."

"He was? And did he know I'd taken up residence in your dungeon?" Hermione asked sharply. He grinned.

"Of course not. He was told that the dungeons were undergoing work to strengthen them, so he stayed out of the way. And there was the dragon as well, which I've found will put him off when he tries to stick his nose in where it doesn't belong." Hermione licked her lips thoughtfully. _There_ was an odd thought – that life had carried on as usual while she had been tortured in the dungeon. There must have been some pretty good silencing spells on those dungeons – Hermione knew she had screamed quite a lot.

"What does he want with me?" She asked quietly.

"Draco?"

"No!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Voldemort. What does he want?"

"It's the Dark Lord to you, Hermione, unless you want to be punished." He warned. She sighed.

"The Dark Lord then, what does he want? He doesn't want me dead, clearly, and surely it's obvious where Harry is."

"Now, yes, Potter is at Hogwarts. But during the holidays…where he stays then is a closely guarded secret."

"And he thinks I'm going to tell him?" Hermione laughed. "I spent three months getting torn limb from limb, getting whipped, burnt, starved…and he thinks healing me will make me tell him?"

"You didn't tell me you were whipped and starved." He focussed in on her. "Where?"

"My back, mostly." Hermione shrugged. "It's all healed over now."

"Let me see." He ordered. She sat up and with his help pulled the nightdress over her head, and he looked at her scarred back, before pulling the nightdress back down and sitting back. "You're right – it has healed over. Though you do have some pretty ugly scars back there."

"Looks arent everything, I guess." She smiled wryly. "Either way, Madeleine failed to get anything out of me and you will too."

"Madeleine lacks everything but a cruel nature." He observed. "Anyone who knows anything about you or your friends knows that brute force will only result in stubborn silence. Gryffindors are all the same."

"Oh, and you know us all so well, do you?" Hermione said archly.

"No, I said anyone who knows anything. And I know a few things." He shrugged elegantly. "I'll leave you to your thoughts for now." He stood and picked up the leather gloves from the bedsiode table and turned for the door.

"Wait." Hermione called out. He paused and pivoted slightly to look at her. "Can I have my school books, please? Seeing as it appears I'm going to be bedridden for a while." He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Of course. But for now…sleep. Then I'll have them sent up."

Hermione snuggled painfully under the covers, her limbs all sore and burning, though she found that as long as she didn't move to much it didn't hurt so bad. She heard the door click shut behind him, and then she let her eyes close, leaving her in calm, quite darkness.

Sleep.

&


	4. Chapter 3

I've been gone a long time, I know, and I just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who's stuck with me despite the fact that I haven't updated in nearly five months. I'm still working on everything, promise…it's just slow work at the moment but as soon as I have stuff to put up and intenet to put it up on, you'll have it. Thanks so much for your patience. Istalindar

&

In her dream she was running, something she hadnt done for months. She was running up and down the hallways in the great country house she was confined in, looking for something. Every so often she'd turn a corner and come across a coiled black snake with golden eyes blocking the hallways, and she'd hastily turn and head in the opposite direction.

She was chasing a few sparkling pink orbs, some of which led her to dead ends, to the snakes or to a huge bay window that overlooked the grounds of the manor house. Outside, below the window, was a carriage, sitting horseless in the great drive. The door opened, but she never saw who got out.

"Hermione." She looked around, searching for the source of the now-familiar and, if she was honest, welcome voice. It had been all she had heard for the past three weeks, but she still couldn't locate him.

"Hermione." Again, the elusive voice calling her. She spun on the spot by the bay window, looking behind and around her. Nothing. Damn him, where was he? She signed and resigned herself to calling.

"Malfoy!" She sat bolt upright in bed as the name was torn from her lips, the movement making her muscles scream in protest. She let herself fall back onto the bed with a groan, and sighed in relief as her muscles relaxed and the pain ebbed.

He chuckled, turning the vanity chair backwards so he could straddle it and rest his arms on the backrest as he watched her from cool grey eyes. She turned her head so she could face him.

"Good morning." He said with a smile. "And I've told you to call me Lucius. It's not that hard, is it?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Habit. Morning to you too." She snuggled deeper under the white duvet, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Still in bed at this time?" He asked teasingly. She shrugged.

"It's cold in here." She slowly pushed herself into sitting position, the duvet falling to her waist. She glanced down and saw her state of semi-undress and she pulled the duvet up to her shoulders.

"I hardly think that modesty now is appropriate." He commented. "You've been in my house coming on four months now, slept in one of my beds for a quarter of that time. If I was going to ravage you, it would have happened by now." Hermione smiled weakly.

"That's comforting," she commented, "Though it's still cold in here." She shrugged, then regarded him more thoughtfully. "So, to what do I owe the honour of your visit to my rooms at such an ungodly hour?"

"It's ten in the morning, Hermione." Lucius remarked. "Have a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast. Meet me in the library at eleven." He stood and bowed low, and Hermione smiled and watched as he left and shut the door behind him.

Immediately she through back the covers, reaching for the silver birch staff as she rose unsteadily to her feet. It had been nearly a month since Lucius had fixed her broken bones and she could only walk even now with the staff or someone helping to support her weight.

In the shower, Hermione shedded her clothes and sank onto the stone seat under the spray, washing herself from sitting down. She had found her arms had regained the strength and mobility much faster than her legs, though her writing was still appalling, though neater, she had been surprised to discover, with her left hand than with her original right. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel from the counter and dried herself off as well as she could. Hauling herself back to her room, she collapsed, exhausted, onto her bed.

She stared morosely at the wardrobe on the other side of the room and the servants bell within arms reach. She hated calling for the house elves, still being SPEWs most fervent supporter, but it looked like she had little choice. Lucius' sense of reality may be somewhat lacking, but he hated being kept waiting.

She rang the bell and watched as Dimmy, the house-elf assigned to Hermione, appeared.

"Miss?" the house-elf asked hopefully.

"I need a bit of help." Hermione said sheepishly. She glanced at the clock, she still had half an hour before she had to meet Lucius. The house-elf looked stunned for a moment before jumping up and down, clapping her hands joyfully.

"Ooh, miss! What is it miss wants Dimmy to do?" Dimmy asked earnestly.

"Well, I need some breakfast if its not too big a bother." Hermione bit her lip.

"No, no! Miss, anything else?"

"A bit of help getting dressed – my legs still aren't strong enough." The house elf nodded and bounded over to the wardrobe.

"Does miss know what she wants to wear?"

"My ripped jeans and a button down shirt." Hermione said after a moment's pause. Dimmy cheerfully retrieved the items plus underwear and laid them before Hermione.

"Anything else?" Dimmy asked. "Does miss need help putting them on?" Hermione saw a tray of breakfast materialise out of the corner of her eye and nodded.

"Please."

Dimmy was clearly ecstatic to be finally helping her stubbornly independent mistress, her tennis-ball eyes sparkling as she briskly dressed Hermione and plaited her long bushy hair into a heavy plait that hung down her back in a thick rope. Clearly familiar with Hermione's spartan makeup regime, she applied it before Hermione even noticed what she was doing.

"There, miss is ready." Dimmy stepped back and Hermione glanced in the mirror, half-expecting to look an absolute mess. If anything, she looked better than she usually did.

"Thanks, Dimmy." Hermione said. She glanced at the clock. 10:59.

"Shit!" Hermione grabbed a strawberry and her staff and hobbled as fast as she could to the library. She pushed the large door open with her shoulder and stumbled inside. Lucius turned and set down the book he had been reading.

"Late." He commented.

"Exhausted." Hermione retorted. She sank unbidden into an armchair. "It's a longer walk than I thought."

"Have you been doing your exercises?" Lucius questioned.

"As often as I can." Hermione replied, "It's not like I enjoy being a cripple."

"You're hardly a cripple, Hermione." Lucius commented. Hermione didn't answer, "Draco has decided to stay at school over the Halloween break." She nodded in acknowledgement.

"Is it that time already?"

"The beginning of October, Hermione. Halloween isnt for a few weeks, yet."

"Forward planning," Hermione muttered. Lucius smiled.

"Quite," He sat in the armchair across from her. "So."

"Is there a reason you dragged me out of bed and halfway across a town-sized house at eleven in the morning?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Perhaps I just enjoy your company." Lucius suggested. Hermione snorted. "You doubt me?" He asked innocently.

"Lucius, I'm not stupid. I know you're keeping me here for a reason, as dictated by Voldemort. As soon as you two decide what to do with me, and realise I'm not just going to do what I'm told, you'll get rid of me. Simple as that."

"My lady, you wound me." Lucius said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. Hermione rolled her eyes. "I shall tell you the truth." He said decisively. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "The truth is, none of us expected you to keep quiet during Madeleine's…questioning. No one ever has, you see." He paused. "Now we have the problem of what to do with you. Since you're clearly not going to tell us anything except where to shove various torture instruments," Hermione smirked, "We just have the problem of what to do with you."

"Kill me." Hermione suggested cheerfully. Lucius looked thoughtful.

"An idea." He mused. "And yet…messy. While it would solve our problem, I prefer to dispose of people with somewhat more style and elegance. As I have yet to think up something suitably fitting for you, something brutal would never do, you see, you're stuck here."

"So Voldemort's ordered you to dispose of me." Hermione said, feeling strangely calm.

"The Dark Lord," Lucius corrected. "Hasn't ordered anything of the sort. He left you to me and told me you were mine to amuse myself as I would until I tired of you and killed you." Hermione stared at him blankly.

"I cant believe you find me particularly amusing." Hermione managed. Lucius smiled.

"You have your ways, Hermione." She rolled her eyes again and looked out the windows to her left. "Anyway, there's a reason I called you to the library."

"Besides my sparkling personality, you mean?" She asked dryly, her gaze returning to him. Damn it, he was handsome. Just like his stupid-ass son. Actually it was more like it was clear where his stupid-ass son got his good looks from.

Stupid Malfoys.

"When you've quite finished insulting my son and family name, Hermione," Lucius said calmly. Hermione gaped.

"You're an occlumence?" She demanded. "Have you been reading my thoughts this entire time?"

"No, not really. That last thought simply happened to be very loud." He said smugly.

"Teach me." Hermione said suddenly. Lucius looked surprised. "Teach me how to be an occlumence." She pressed.

"Why do you want to be an occlumence?" Lucius asked.

"It's an interesting skill to have." Hermione shrugged.

"Hermione, as much as I hate repeating myself, I'll remind you. There is little to no chance of you leaving this manor alive."

"But there's a tinsy bit of chance." Hermione said optimistically.

"Yes, that the Dark Lord will have you taken to him so that he can watch you being executed." Lucius rolled his eyes. "Harsh as it may seem, Hermione, this is your reality."

"Okay, fair enough." She conceded. "But I'm bored!"

"What about your schoolbooks?" Lucius asked, arching one elegant eyebrow.

"Read them all. Memorised most of them." Hermione tapped her head with one finger. "I absorb information easily."

"You mean you suck it up like a sponge." Lucius muttered. "It takes a long time to become a skilled occlumence, you know." Hermione shrugged.

"I'm not going anywhere." Lucius watched her for a long time, and she soon felt a headache developing. Suddenly realising what was happening, she visualised him running into huge thick walls, and he leaned back in his chair with a laugh. Her headache lessoned.

"Well done, though it took you a while to realise I was in your head." Hermione frowned.

"Wait – if its so easy to get in my head and nosy around, why cant you just go in and pick Harry's whereabouts out of my skull?" Lucius spread his hands helplessly.

"We've tried." He shrugged. "But someone, not you, has put that information under lock and key. You can access it, we cant."

"You mean someone's been messing around inside my head?" Hermione asked. "Who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Dumbledore" she said instantly. "Or…no." she subsided, working furiously to banish thoughts of the other from her mind.

"That's interesting." Lucius steepled his fingers as he leaned back and regarded her coolly.

"What is?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Why would Severus Snape want to alter your mind?" He pondered. A slow wolf's smile spread across his face.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod

"He hates Harry more than he hates me!" Hermione blurted out.

"Does he now?" Lucius asked coldly.

"Lucius please!" Hermione begged. She scrambled from her chair and nearly fell into an untidy heap in his lap. Instead she managed to stay on her knees. "Please!"

"Please what?" Lucius' long fingers stroked over Hermione's hair, flicking away the hair tie and freeing her hair from its braid. "Why does the man who caused you so much pain mean so much to you?" Hermione didn't answer, and she deliberately kept her mind as blank as possible, and when that failed, filled her mind with the unicorns and cherubs from Fantasia. Lucius grinned.

"See? You're improving already. And don't worry about your precious Potions master, the Dark Lord knows already." He stood and held out his hand to Hermione, who took it.

"You mean you already knew about him? That was just a 'lesson'?" She spat. Lucius smiled.

"My dear girl, you are no longer in the safe world that Dumbledore liked to keep you in. You asked to learn occlumency and I'm teaching you. The first step is learning to defend your own mind." He let her hand drop and walked to the door, turning back when he reached it. "I actually asked you here to tell you that you may use the library and read to your heart's content. Enjoy." He slipped through the doors and was gone.

"Bastard." She muttered.

Manners, Hermione. his voice tutted in her head.

Get out of my head, Lucius. she shot back.

Make me. she could practically see his smile. She envisioned pushing him out of her mind's door and locking it behind him. She turned back to the library with a sigh.

Her head was silent.

&

The library was Hermione's version of paradise. It was absolutely huge, and filled with books that taught both light and dark magic, history and prophecy. Most of Hermione's waking hours were spent in the library, poring over books often wider than her own head. Dark or light magic lost distinction in her search for knowledge, but it occurred to her several times that she rarely even thought of escape anymore, so caught up in the books was she. This thought filled her with an uneasy feeling like she was betraying her family and friends, but she quickly suppressed it and concentrated on the idea that she was gathering information for Dumbledore.

Information he could have got from any of the books you're reading. It's hardly spying – these books were published and so are public.

Shut up 

Lucius occasionally joined her in the library (or in her head) and they talked about almost anything – occlumency, what she was reading that day, what they were doing at school, how work at the ministry was going. Lucius didn't seem to be guarded about anything – if Hermione asked a question, he answered.

So far she hadn't dared to ask about Voldemort. Still, she enjoyed their conversations, and she learnt a great deal about him. He, like Draco, had grown up as the 'little lord' with a largely useless mother and an autocratic father. He didn't ever mention details of his life after his 18th birthday, and Hermione could easily guess what happened then.

He continued to teach her occlumency, too. It occurred to Hermione tht he was wielding a double edged sword in doing so, that while he was teaching her to guard her mind and invade the minds of others, she could conceivably turn those weapons on him.

The prospect seemed less and less likely, actually, as time went on. She enjoyed his company, which he lavished upon her freely, along with many other gifts. Her clothes, for example. Her wardobe continued to expant, despite her protests that it was unnecessary. Labels like Chloé, Hermés, Ralph Lauren (the wizarding branch, obviously) and more started to appear in her closet, much to her rather embarassed delight. When Hermione's 18th birthday rolled around (thanks to the time turner) in late November, Lucius gave her a beautiful silver charm bracelet from which hung tiny faceted tear drop pink rubies and tiny silver charms, which she took to wearing constantly.

Now and then Hermione wondered what he was up to. He was a deatheater, Hermione knew that, and so worked for Voldemort, but at the moment he was being so kind and generous and funny and - Hermione cut off that line of thought. She was here, and alive, for as long as Lucius and Voldemort wanted her here, seeing as she was a mudblood, and Voldemort and his followers wanted to rid the world of mudbloods, she figured it wouldn't be too long begore she was killed or otherwise dealt with. She figured she enjoy her time alive while she still could.

&

Hermione looked up to see Lucius walk into the library. Hermione She smiled, but he didn't return the gesture.

What is it? she questioned wordlessly.

The Dark Lord wishes to see you. Tonight. Hermione shot to her feet, the book falling to the floor with a thud. She reeled, grabbing for her staff, and Lucius steadied her.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?" she asked quietly. Lucius shrugged elegantly, his face cold and blank, a look she recognised from Draco.

"Clothes are waiting for you in your room." He said flatly. She nodded, readjusting her grip on her staff.

"How long."

"An hour before we leave." She nodded again and turned her back on the pale handsome man and made her way to her room as quickly as she could. The tears were streaming before she even reached her door.

&

Layed out on her bed was a long black skirt and a fluffy black wool sweater that fastened up the front with silver clips. However, as Hermione discovered when she pulled it over her bra the 'buttons' didn't go up far enough. The shoulders of the cardigan kept falling off her shoulders and the swell of her breasts could be seen. She sighed and almost without thinking, rang the servant bell. Dimmy appeared, smiling delightedly as she always did when her mistress summoned her.

"Yes Miss Hermione?"

"Could you please straighten my hair and twist it up? I still cant make my hands do it up properly."

"Miss shouldn't need to – Dimmy wants to help miss." Hermione sat at the vanity and watched the still form of her reflection as Dimmy effortlessly twisted up Hermione's hair. Hermione put on platinum and diamond earrings but left her throat bare. Dimmy set about putting Hermione's makeup on, making her eyes smoky and lining the lids with dark grey-blue.

"What's the special occasion, miss?" she asked, stepping back to admire her handywork.

"The Dark Lord has requested my presence." Hermione said, standing up in the suddenly-silent room. She scooped up the black shoes by the bed and put them on, then turned back to see Dimmy staring at her, wide-eyed.

"But miss is _Muggleborn_!" Dimmy exclaimed. Hermione nodded. "So Grand Master will kill miss." Hermione shrugged.

"Probably." Hermione picked up the heavy black velvet cloak and swung it around her shoulders. "Goodbye, Dimmy. And thanks." She smiled again and turned to open the door, and instead found Lucius stood in the open doorway, her staff in his hands.

"How touching." He sneered. A 'pop' announced Dimmy's departure.

"Time?" Hermione asked tiredly. Lucius thrust her staff at her in answer and spun on his heel, expecting her to follow.

She did.

&

The coach ride passed in rigid silence; Hermione staring at the snow-coated landscape and Lucous feigning sleep. It was a week until Christmas, Hermione mused. What a Christmas gift that would be – dying. She rolled her eyes at her own morbidity and tentatively reached out to Lucius mind – and was repelled so violently she gasped.

"I'm not in the mood for company." He said flatly without opening his eyes.

"I'm sorry," She whispered. His eyes opened, and the carriage drew to a halt.

"Don't speak until spoken to." He said sharply. "When you are brought into his presence, kneel and bow your head. Watch your thoughts."

"Thanks." She said quietly. He nodded swiftly and swept from the carriage.

"Follow me." He ordered. She did, walking as swiftly as she could with her staff.

They entered a great house, and Lucius breezed straight through the main entrance hall without pausing. He stopped before a set of extravagant double doors and gave his cloak to a bowing servant. The servant gestured for Hermione's cloak, and she handed it over. The doors opened and Lucius strode though. Hermione followed and instantly felt hundreds of hateful eyes boring into her. She straightened instinctively.

"Mudblood." The whisper passed though the assembled deatheaters.

Stop there. Kneel. Hermione did as she was told unquestioningly, bowing her head so her neck was exposed.

Lambs to the slaughter. She thought mirthlessly. I always assumed I'd die fighting. Funny thing, that.

"Indeed, Hermione." The use of her name made her jerk, but she did not look up. "It is Hermione, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes sir." She whispered.

"Yes, _my lord_." Voldemort hissed. She felt rather than saw Lucius tense in front of her.

"Yes, my lord." She repeated. Voldemort chuckled.

"Come forward." Hermione slowly got to her feet. "Leave the stick." Hermione let the staff fall to the floor with a loud clatter in the silent room and slowly looked up. Voldemort watched her with his red eyes, and she slowly stepped forward, her limbs trembling. "You are still weak." He observed.

"Yes my lord." Hermione answered softly.

"Madeleine…" Voldemort sneered but held out his hand. Hermione took a deep breath and tentatively laid her hand in his. "Sit here by me." He let her sink to the floor at his feet, where she sat stiffly, expecting a blade in her back or suchlike any second. She looked at Lucius, but he was staring fixedly at Voldemort. "Madeleine!"

Madeleine stepped forward and Hermione noticed that she looked considerably the worse for wear.

"Yes, my lord?" she asked.

"Avada Kedavra!" Hermione gasped and jerked back as Madeleine's corpse thudded to the floor, the head lolling to the side so the empty eyes stared unrelentingly at Hermione. To Hermione's disgust, she could feel Voldemort's hand on her head, stroking her hair. "Hush, Hermione, it's alright." Hermione's stomach surged upwards at the doting tone and she clamped her lips together tightly to stop herself throwing up. "I like the mudblood." He announced. "She's a lovely pet. So pretty." He caressed the side of her face, along her jaw line. He smiled and Hermione bowed her head.

A fate worse than death…

Shut up, you stupid girl! The voice barked in her head.

"Lucius shall care for my pet, as he has done so admirably in the past. But first…come, pet. I have something for you." Hermione followed Voldemort away from the main hall, fighting her tears of horror.

I will not cry. She told herself fiercely. I will not cry.

"Look there, pet." Voldemort opened a door and ushered her inside and Hermione's eyes widened.

&

The entire court stood waiting for Voldemort for three hours. The deatheaters talked softly among themselves about Voldemort and his new pet and Lucius, looking around, locked eyes with Snape, who seemed paler than usual. Lucius crossed to his side.

"You looked shocked." He said quietly.

"She looks well considering she was under Madeleine for six months."

"Three months." Lucius corrected. "She's been recuperating at the Manor since then." Snape shot him an incredulous look. "She's fond of you, you know, despite your determination to encourage dislike from your students."

"You've been caring for her for three months." Snape said disbelievingly.

"The Dark Lord commanded it. Luicius said. The double doors swung open, ending their conversation, and all the Deatheaters snapped to attention.

Voldemort swept in, followed by Hermione who stood straight and stared straight ahead, but Lucius saw the wild look in her eyes, the scratch across her breastbone and the tumbled disarray her hair was in. And he needed only a second's stretch to her mind to see the chaos in her head.

"Lucius," Voldemort said silkily. Lucius stepped forward. "You may take her back to the Manor now." Lucius nodded, and Hermione bent and picked up her staff. Both bowed and left the hall.


	5. Chapter 4

I'm sorry it's taken so long to update, but I was having writers block. However, I'm pretty sure I've got my act together so I have a good idea where this is going, so there should be more updates on a more regular basis. I'm also working on all my other stories, so there should be updates for those as well. I hope you enjoy this and that it was worth the wait. Istalindar.

&

In the coach, Lucius turned to Hermione. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." She answered flatly. Lucius reached out to her mind and was slapped back more effectively that he had ever been. "I don't want company." She said quietly.

When they arrived at the Manor Hermione leapt out of the coach and nearly ran to the imposing building, Lucius following more slowly. Her legs gave in halfway up the stairs and she fell onto her stomach before sliding back into a sitting position, sobbing.

Lucius gathered her up and carried her the rest of the way to her room and laid her gently onto the bed, the way he had when he rescued her from his own dungeon. She curled on her side, drawing her knees to her chest and sniffing. He sat beside her and stroked her hair, an act entirely different from what Voldemort had done. When her sobbing had abated slightly, he handed her a hankerchief. She blew her nose and wiped at her makeup smears, succeeding only in making them worse.

"What did you see?" He asked softly. She didn't shuddered, opening tear-shiny eyes and looking up at him.

"Hundreds of little…things. They crawled all over me and up me and scratched and bit and…" she trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut and biting her lip. Lucius knew what she was talking about and said nothing. The creatures, whatever they were, were one of Voldemort's favourite ways to instantaneously break someone. "I feel so disgusting!" She hissed suddenly, tearing at her clothes. Lucius watched as she writhed on the bed, shedding black fabric like a second skin. When she was down to her underwear and looked likely to take that off as well, he interceded, taking both her wrists in one hand, his other hand caressing her face.

"Stop it." He ordered sternly. Hermione whimpered.

"I can feel them crawling all over me." She said, twisting on the bed. "Get them off!" She shrieked.

"Hermione, there's nothing there." Lucius tried to explain. She ripped her hands free of his grip and started clawing at her skin, heedless of where she was drawing blood with her nails. Lucius grabbed a wrist in each hand and leaned down, kissing her hard. She froze underneath him and he drew back.

"There is nothing on you, Hermione." He said clearly. "You're safe and clean." Hermione didn't respond immediately, but then she slowly nodded. "Are you going to be alright?" He asked. Her fingers clenched convulsively on his where he held her hands down. He bent and kissed her again and she sighed against his mouth, her mouth opening so his tongue could slip in. He kissed her thoroughly before pulling away.

"You should sleep." He said quietly, releasing her hands. She grabbed for him.

"No!" she cried out. She took a deep breath. "Stay with me…please?"

So he did.

&

Hermione's legs were improving, albeit slowly. She still had exercises to do, and she did them faithfully because whenever she considered skipping them, just this once, Lucius was in her head with a curt, if affectionate, reminder that if she ever wanted to walk again unaided she'd spend half an hour of her oh-so-busy day doing them.

She usually sighed at that, but did them anyway.

Lucius didn't spend as much time with her anymore, aside from her occlumency lessons and of course, the nights he spent in her bed. She didn't mind all that much, because he popped into her mind every so often, and they often had conversations while he took a break from whatever it was that he did. He was remarkably open: Hermione had yet to find a topic he would not speak to her on, although asofyet she hadn't dared bring up his rather dark past.

All in good time.

That, my dear, is a topic best left alone. Hermione sighed with a small smile. Hearing his voice in her head was as real as having him stood behind her, and when he laughed, as he usually did at her mushy thoughts, it was quite infectious.

It was the Christmas holidays, not that it affected Hermione's days much. All it meant was that she had to remain within her suite of rooms, and have the house elves or Lucius bring her books from the libraries, due to Draco's return from school. Lucius had assured her that Draco had been told her little area of the Manor was off limits, but had warned her that Draco might come wandering.

That was fine, Hermione would just lock herself in her room if she heard him coming. The House Elves would warn her anyway.

Hermione glanced up from her book and refocused her thoughts. She had been staring at the same page for the last ten minute, ruminating on Draco and Christmas and Lucius. It was ridiculous. Outside it was snowing thickly, the thick white drift obscuring anything more than ten metres from the window. Strange for Christmas, but not unheard of. Hermione shook her head, sitting the book on the windowseat of the hall. Not that she was making it a habit to hang around in the hallways, it was just sometimes nice to get out of her rooms, plus the halls made for a long clear walkway for her to practise her exercises in.

She was on her second lap, walking hesitantly with the staff a few centimetres from the floor, when a voice made her jerk and spin so violently that the staff crashed into the small table standing by the wall, the no-doubt priceless vase falling off it and crashing to the floor.

"Well, this is interesting."

When she had sufficiently recovered herself to reaccess her brain cells, getting past the 'oh shit' reaction to the vase and the 'dammit' reaction to standing on a piece of glass in her bare feet, she hopped onto the window seat to inspect her foot, paying no attention to the schoolmate standing in front of her.

"Seriously, you were rude before. This is ridiculous." Hermione finally looked up and saw Draco standing in front of her, looking as handsome as his father in black slacks and a tight-fitting black turtleneck. His arms were crossed and he had an incredulous expression on his face.

"Hello." She said grudgingly, looking back at her foot. It wasn't bleeding much, but she was sure there was still glass in it.

"Reparo." She felt a rush of envy at Draco's casual use of magic while she hadn't seen a wand in sixth months, but didn't look up. This was more than awkward.

"Fancy you being here." Draco said, bouncing onto the window seat next to her and sitting sideways, bracing himself against the window jamb. "Missing for oh-o-long and you're _here_. How…unexpected." He sighed. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"You aren't meant to be here." She said grudgingly. He shot her an incredulous look.

"Well, well done cupcake." He said sarcastically. "Neither, funnily enough, are you. Have you been here the entire bloody time?" She shrugged. "Mudblood! Granger, snap out of it!" He frowned, grabbing her chin and pulling her head up roughly so she met his gaze.

"Oh my god." He breathed, appalled. "You're doing him, aren't you?" Hermione glared.

"That's none of your business." She said flatly. Draco shook his head, climbing off the chair.

"It's un-fucking-believable, Granger. That's what it is." He said, his voice dripping contempt and disgust, like she had just offered him a slug to eat. "Because the only way he gets his thrall on is if stupid little bints like you sleep with him. Ugh." He turned and strode away, and Hermione rolled her eyes, turning back to her foot. Barely a minute later she heard familiar footsteps and looked up.

"Draco was here." Lucius said flatly, grey eyes angry. Hermione rose to her feet hesitantly, and he looked down at her feet. "You're hurt."

"He surprised me. I broke the vase and stepped on it." Hermione said sheepishly. Lucius shook his head with a smirk and healed it. "He was here, but he basically insulted me and just left." Lucius frowned.

"What did he say?" Hermione shrugged, a voice inside her warning against repeating Draco's exact words.

"He basically said it figured I'd be here, then he called me a mudblood and left." Hermione resisted the urge to embellish her story…with Lucius' easy-access to her mind, lying was risky enough as it was. Lucius smirked.

"Well, then that's good. It won't hurt him to see that the Dark Lord has one of the 'Golden Trio' in his grasp. Might reassure him of our cause, sometimes I have fear that that boy may be losing faith in our mission." Hermione declined to answer, and Lucius smiled, kissing her hard on the mouth. "I'll see you tonight, pet." He said. "It might be best if you stay in your rooms from now on." She nodded with a smile and let him push her gently to the door, passing her her book and staff before striding back to his office or wherever he had come from. She watched him go, then turned back into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her.

&

Lucius didn't come to her room that night, and she spent the night awake and staring at the uncurtained window across from her bed, watching the dark shape of snow drift past her window. This much snow was ridiculous. Seriously, they were in southern England not northern Scotland. She sighed. Just thinking of Hogwarts made her miss it terribly.

A knocking at her door made her bound from bed, pausing briefly when she realised that Lucius never knocked. But by that point it was too late, and she watched as the lock clicked back and Draco pushed the door open, shutting it silently behind him. He seemed taken aback to see her standing there in the middle of the room, dressed in the virginous white nightdress Lucius liked.

"I thought you were asleep." He said. She raised her eyebrows. "Granger…Hermione…say _something_. Anything that will reassure me you're not completely the dimwitted idiot you look."

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked tiredly. "I was trying to sleep."

"You look awake." Draco commented, sitting in the armchair Lucius always sat in when he visited her room. "We need to talk."

"You've made your opinions on my position abundantly clear." Hermione replied, grabbing a blanket off the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders, perching on the end of the bed.

"That's just it." Draco exclaimed. "Your _position_? For fuck's sake, Granger, you're my father's sex toy! What part of that is not wrong?"

"I'm not." Hermione said with a small smile. "He's my keeper, not my lover. I'm not so naïve as that."

"Thank heaven for small mercies." Draco muttered. "Granger, you are aware, I hope, that you are not the only woman my father is fucking. You are of course his only casual fuck, but apart from that beautiful little virtue, you are so far down on his list of priorities that you barely show up on his radar." Hermione glared.

"I am not a casual fuck." She replied. Draco snorted.

"Oh please. You are the only one he's not gaining anything from except somewhere to stick it. All the others he's after something. From Forsythe he's cultivating financial backing from the Dark Lord, not to mention a pureblood mistress for either himself or Voldemort or both. Brookwater has contacts in the Ministry that keep those nosy sods out of our house. Cartridge…I think he's doing her for fun, because she amuses him, and because while he has that leverage on her she's another little puppet on a string. There's others, but it's pretty much more of the same." Draco shrugged.

"You're lying." Hermione said. "He's fucking all of them for a reason, and there's a reason behind me too." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Granger, just shut up. You're blind, deaf, dumb, thicker than two short planks _and_ painfully, dangerously, heart-achingly naïve to think that you actually mean anything to him. Hell, they don't and they can actually give him something."

"Well," Hermione drew herself up. "Not that you're right, but even if you were it wouldn't really matter." Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Oh really? And if he dragged one of those darling ladies back here and wafted her under your upturned little nose, are you gonna be okay?" He smiled condescendingly. "It'll break your heart and you know it as well as I do."

"I don't love him, you moron." Hermione snapped.

"Of course you don't." Draco agreed. "But with him, you don't have too." He shrugged. "Let me break it down for you Granger. He will leave you. He will emotionally destroy you by waving a pretty rich cow under your nose, my money's on Forsythe, by the way, and you will have nothing. You'll be utterly broken. And that, my dear darling annoying little harpy, is the whole point of it all." Hermione looked at him levelly.

"Even if he does do that, you've forgotten one thing. I won't be losing much."

"And how's that?"

"I'm Voldemort's pet. What's he gonna do?" Draco leapt to his feet and stalked across the room before Hermione could blink.

"You stupid little bint." He said venemously, taking her shoulders and shaking her, not at all gently. "Are you even hearing what you're saying? 'Even if Lucius does dump me I'll still be Voldemort's pet'." Draco raised his voice an octave to imitate her, then shuddered. "Merlin, Hermione. Where are you in there? Because all I can see and hear is one of Lucius' thralls, and I never thought I'd see you as one of those mindless whores. And frankly, even at the height of my hatred I would never have wanted to." Hermione pushed him away, if only so she could regain her equilibrium. Around Draco she found herself mentally cursing Lucius, but keeping her mental walls way up just in case. It was harder to justify what she was doing here, just wasting time, when Draco was around. Draco reminded her that there was a whole world out there, with Hogwarts and Harry and Ron and everyone else.

"I've made you think, haven't I?" Draco asked, stepping back with a satisfied look on his face. "Finally."

"It's not like that." Hermione said feebly. Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Yes it is." He said, his voice gentle. "And what's worse is you know it, somewhere inside there."

"I don't understand." She said, covering her face with hands and trying to bring herself back to reality. This had to be some sort of twisted dream, and in a second she'd wake up and Lucius would be asleep next to her and-

"It's a form of control, subtler than Imperius." Draco said, taking her hands and pulling them away from her face. "Look at me." She reluctantly dragged her gaze up to his eyes. "Keep looking at me Hermione, it'll make it easier for you to concentrate."

"How do you know?" She asked, her voice soft. She had such a headache, and it felt like there were two people in her head, one raging that she was here, that Lucius had the nerve to make her a fucking _thrall_, demanding immediate plans for escape. The other one was sceptical of Draco's arguments, constantly remembering that Lucius had saved her from the dungeons, had taken care of her when she was scared, was teaching her occlumency…

"I know my fair share." Draco said drily. "Now. Have you been here all this time?" She nodded.

"I was in the dungeons with Madeleine. Then your dad came and kicked her out, brought me out of there and healed me." Draco snorted, shaking his head but not letting her gaze go.

"You do realise that that's merely a simple act designed to infatuate the victim with Lucius, right?" He asked. Hermione shook her head.

"He didn't know I was there." She said.

"Bollocks." Draco replied. "I wasn't allowed in the dungeons all summer, and that's why. You were in there because my mother was home and she won't stand for his ladies when she's at home. Not because he didn't know."

"He told me." Hermione said stubbornly.

"He lied." Draco replied. "And that shouldn't be too hard to believe. And if it is, you're further gone than I had originally thought."

"Of course it's easy to believe." Hermione retorted. "But he wouldn't lie to _me_." Draco stared at her.

"Oh for fuck's sakes." He muttered, then crushed her mouth against his.

He kissed very differently from his father. While Lucius was very elegant with his kissing, Draco kissed with purpose, like he was forcing reason back into her head. It caused an uncomfortably stirring in Hermione's stomach, a tight twisting that made her press into him.

It also caused her head to be clear for a few seconds. The sheer horror of what she was doing at the Manor (with Lucius, not Draco), and at what she had become (a fawning syncophant), made her recoil from Draco.

"Oh my god." She gasped. Draco watched her anger and disgust surface through her suddenly clear eyes, but then observed it dwindle as the clarity faded and Lucius' control returned.

"You shouldn't be here." She said. Draco nodded, stepping back from here.

"You're right." He said. "But I'm gonna come back." He kissed her once more on the mouth, just briefly, then turned and strode out of the door. Hermione crawled into bed, feeling faintly sick, and concentrated hard on going to sleep, until she finally did.

And then, of course, she dreamed of Hogwarts and got no rest at all.

&


	6. Chapter 5

Here's another chapter, I hope you enjoy it. I've got the foreseeable future worked out, I'm just trying to figure out how to end it, which could take a while. In the meantime, here's another bit. Enjoy. Istalindar

&

It was Christmas day, and Hermione was…listless. She hadn't seen Lucius in days, though she had received his note giving strict orders that she was not to leave her rooms. It was because Narcissa was home, she had heard from the House-Elf before it cracked itself over the head with her dinner tray. It made sense, in a way, but Hermione couldn't help thinking that if Lucius really wanted her, then he wouldn't care that his spoiled wife was home. Draco's words kept coming back to her, about how she meant nothing to Lucius.

Hermione shook her head and stepped onto the balcony, staring out across the garden. It had stopped snowing, but it was absolutely freezing. Hermione shivered and looked down.

And saw Narcissa Malfoy glaring up at her.

Hermione immediately retreated, shutting the doors to the balcony quickly.

Lucius, Narcissa saw me! Hermione exclaimed hastily.

What? He sounded pissed. What exactly were you doing to make her notice you? He demanded.

I was only on the balcony and she was in the garden. Hermione explained hastily. I looked down and she looked up and she looks really mad.

Of course she does. Just…hold your tongue. I'll be there in a moment.

There was a sharp pop and Hermione looked up and winced. Narcissa Malfoy stood there, tall, thin and elegant in long ice-blue robes. Her blue eyes burned furiously.

"Who are you?" she asked. Hermione bit her lip, but didn't answer. "You're quite young." Narcissa commented, stepping forward and circling Hermione, who stood as still as she could. "Too young, really, for my husband. What are you doing here?" Hermione didn't answer. "Girl! Answer me." Narcissa snapped. Hermione didn't, and Narcissa stepped close to Hermione, staring hard at her. Then she smiled. "I know you." She said, her features relaxing into a smile that almost made her pretty. She smiled wider, and began to look a bit feral. "Of course I do. The World Cup. You're Potter's little bitch, aren't you?" Hermione bit her lip to stop from replying.

Hermione! When I come in there, kneel at my feet, call me sir and don't look me in the eye. Understand? Lucius didn't give her a chance to answer, throwing the door open and striding into the room. Hermione immediately did as she was told, running to fall on her knees at Lucius' feet, eyes on the ground.

"Sir." She whispered. Narcissa laughed.

"No master, Lucius? That is quite uncommon for the girls playing your slave-games." She commented. Lucius met her gaze with an icy glare.

"What are you doing in here?" He demanded. Narcissa shrugged.

"I was curious. I saw her and thought maybe I should see who the strange child was in my house. You are aware that she's Draco's age, right? What you're doing is practically paedophilia." She smiled venemously. "The only reason I'm not mad is it's just so funny. Have you been reduced to children now Lucius?" Narcissa taunted.

"You don't wish to know the answer to that question, Narcissa." Lucius commented. "Just as I would not want to know your answer." Narcissa glared.

"I don't want her in my house." She snapped. Lucius shrugged.

"You haven't got a choice." He replied nonchalantly.

"Get her out Lucius, or I will-" Narcissa began dangerously.

"You'll nothing." Lucius interrupted calmly. "She's not my pet, dear, she's the Dark Lord's. I'm her Keeper, not her Master."

"What?" Narcissa asked, shocked. "The Dark Lord has taken a mudblood pet?"

"She's not just any mudblood, Narcissa." Lucius said patronizingly. "You said it yourself. She's Potter's bitch." Narcissa shuddered and swept from the room, leaving Lucius and Hermione alone as she slammed the door. Hermione immediately climbed to her feet.

"Thank you." She said fervently. "I thought she might behead me."

"She might have done." Lucius agreed, heading for the door. Hermione caught his hand.

"Lucius." He looked down at her.

"What?"

"Stay?" He shook his head.

"I've got important things to do." He said. "I can't. Much less when Narcissa's home. Go to sleep, Hermione. And stay inside. The less contact you have with my wife the better." Hermione nodded, and watched Lucius leave.

That night she dreamed she was running through the manor, chasing the pink rubies from her bracelet, but her path kept being blocked by black snakes that hissed at her. When she ran past the window she saw a carriage pull up and Lucius climb out, holding his hand to someone else. But she never saw them, instead she was back to chasing the rubies.

&

Christmas passed, and both Narcissa and Draco left. It seemed, however, that in the short time that they had paused their habitual sharing of beds, Lucius had lost interest in her. He rarely spoke to her now, and even her occlumency lessons trailed off, leaving her with nothing to do but her exercises and her constant reading.

She reminded herself repeatedly that Lucius was an exceedingly busy man, and that he now trusted that she well enough that she didn't need his constant nurturing. While she appreciated that he thought she was strong enough and independent enough that she didn't need his coddling, it didn't stop her wanting it.

Still, he had things to do and she was a big girl now. And the _books_…

However, something that wasn't becoming uncommon was her wandering while she read. And as often as it trailed to Lucius, it wandered to Draco. It was kinda cute, the way Draco seemed to try to 'rescue' her from the big bad Lucius, as though Lucius would actually hurt her. And he had grown up nicely. Still, Hermione was beginning to think she liked her men just that tad bit less green.

I.e. given the choice, she'd go for Malfoy Snr as opposed to Malfoy Jnr.

No matter how sweet of Draco it was to try and protect her, and how nicely he'd grown up since she last saw him at the end of July, just hours before she'd been kidnapped by Madeleine. It was funny, actually, how easily she'd slipped into the routine here. She didn't even think of escape at all. And why should she? Hermione chuckled, looking back at her book. Lucius cared about her, even if he was super busy right now.

Spring was coming, the snow (way too much snow for southern England) was melting, and from it was rising purple and yellow crocuses and snowdrops. It had started raining, slow, constant unending drizzle. Hermione lived pointlessly, reading from the library on any topic she could get her hands on, Dark, Light, pointless, useful, fiction, nonfiction…it was something to fill the endless hours it appeared she had. At this point, even a visit from the Dark Lord himself would be welcome. As long as he didn't bring those vile creatures with him. On the other hand, if he did, perhaps Lucius would make the disgust and self-hatred vanish again. The pros and cons of being Voldemort's pet.

However, Voldemort didn't visit, and neither did Lucius. Spring rolled on, warming very gradually and constantly raining. Narcissa stayed well away, and the library seemed smaller than it originally had. Hermione had never known it was possible, but books were getting boring. She wanted to do something that didn't involve pacing.

On the upside, her legs were getting better. She could go without a staff for up to two hours now, thought at the end of it she was tired and her legs would cramp.

It was one of those cool, but not cold, wet days that Draco's predictions came true. Hermione was standing by the window on the upper landing, staring blankly out at the grey countryside that surrounded the Manor, when she saw a carriage draw up on the gravel drive before the house. She saw Lucius descend quickly, dressed handsomely in black as always, and then he extended his hand to someone within the carriage. A pink-gloved hand took it, and a hooded woman followed, the two of them hurrying quickly into the house.

Hermione quickly stepped away from the window and looked over the banister. The pair came into the lobby, shedding wet cloaks so Hermione could see properly. The woman was petite, with curling honey-gold hair swept up at the back of her head, but some of it was coming free, dangling in perfect curls around her face. She wore beautiful rose-pink dress robes that suited her perfectly, enhancing every inch of her amazing body. Hermione couldn't help glaring, and the woman picked up on it, turning and looking up. Hermione drew back quickly.

"Lucius?" Her voice was sweet, but a tad too high. "Who was the girl I saw up there?" Lucius laughed.

"A girl?" He questioned.

"Yes, I'm quite sure I saw her. Dark hair, quite uncontrollable."

"Ah, you mean Hermione. She's…I'm her guardian."

"What? Is she homeless?" The woman questioned. Lucius chuckled.

"Not as such. But I look after her."

"That is so darling of you." She trilled. Hermione grimaced.

Lucius, who on earth is she? Hermione asked with a mental laugh. She's rather shrill.

She's Lady Gemma Forsythe, and none of your business. Stay out of my mind. Lucius said sharply. Hermione frowned, stepping once more to the banister to get another look at the woman that Draco had mentioned as one of Lucius' lovers. Unfortunately, Gemma was watching for her.

"There she is! Come down here, darling child, I must get a look at you!" Hermione hesitated, but at a look from Lucius she reluctantly dragged herself down the stairs. She came to a halt in front of them, and found she was at least an inch taller than Gemma.

"Lucius, she's no child. She must be seventeen at least." Gemma said, sounding slightly more disapproving.

"I never said she was a child, sweetness." He murmured in her ear, making her smile as his breath made her curls tickle her ear. Gemma giggled and Hermione resisted the urge to be sick.

We need to talk. She said silently to Lucius. He met her gaze, and the impassivity she saw there shocked her.

About what? he questioned.

About us! she exclaimed. Lucius chuckled in her head.

You silly little girl. he said. There is no 'us'. You were nothing to me…you are aware of that, right? Hermione stared dumbly at him, shock and horror reducing her to silence. Oh, you didn't know. Well. Now you do. Run along. Hermione gaped. Hermione, go! he snapped, and she fled.

Back in her room, Hermione threw herself on her bed and sobbed. Lucius was meant to care about her! Of course he had never said it, after all, he had a reputation to consider, but she had always known he cared. If he didn't care, she reasoned, why did he insist she did her exercises? If he didn't care, why did he bring her books? If he didn't care, she paused and looked at the silver and ruby bracelet still around her wrist. If he didn't care, why did he give this to her? She glared at it, then out the window.

He cared. Of course he cared. But he had to put up a front, a show, that made him look to be interested in the beautiful, well dressed, well connected pureblood witches that no-doubt flocked to him in droves. That's all it was. And the brush off he gave her was just a ploy to make her leave, because he couldn't have her around throwing doubts into Gemma's little mind about his intentions.

Now it all made sense. And with a satisified smile, Hermione let herself fall asleep.

&

It didn't improve though. Gemma was around all the time, her shrill voice echoing around the Manor. It disgusted Hermione, the way Lucius so blatantly played with her, like a cat and mouse. Or like playing serious games with a child, because that was all Gemma was in comparison to him. A child.

He didn't even speak to her anymore if he could help it. And Hermione couldn't help it if she mourned that. Well, more than mourned it. She moped around her bedroom, completely at a loss of what to do. She couldn't leave, but staying here was unbearable. She couldn't talk to him, because he shunned her. And there was no one else to talk to because the House-Elves didn't like talking either, it scared them. So Hermione spent her time alone in her own private hell, occasionally delving into her books but spending more and more time at the window, staring across the estate and watching winter vanish as she twisted the bracelet around her wrist.

Days passed, and Hermione found she couldn't, in the end, be bothered to move, or eat, or read or do anything in fact. All she did was remember the time she spent with Lucius, when he had sat with her, eaten with her, laughed, argued, spoken…slept with her. Every moment she spent with him seemed burned into her mind and she couldn't forget, she could only keep playing and replaying them in her mind like some sort of one sided movie. The House-Elves brought her food but she picked at it. She didn't reach out for Lucius now, she didn't reach out at all. Didn't speak, didn't listen, didn't move, barely ate. She just looked out the window and remembered, the calm silence of her room making no distraction at all.

Until someone knocked on her door and then entered without waiting for an answer.

&


	7. Chapter 6

Hello folks! Just a quick note to clear a few things up. Thanks to everyone for the reviews, I'm glad people like it. Firstly, this is a Draco/Hermione story…it just takes its own sweet time and has a couple of deviations. But never fear, I'm a die-hard DMHG so that's the only way its gonna be, no matter what it seems like (plus Lucius and Hermione is a little bit creepy, but that's how its meant to be in this story). Secondly, 'Miss Madison' is a name that Charlie called her. The name Madison is from an old black and white movie but I can't remember which, and its just his way of showing that he could see she grew up. The reason Voldemort knows it is because Madeleine and Petrus were there waiting for her, I realise I didn't explain that at all. But basically he's just mocking her with it. Ron and Harry haven't come looking for her yet because they're in school and they haven't been able to, seeing as the majority of this story is still set in the 6th book and they're underage and have a plethora of adults bossing them around still.

I think that's everything, so I hope that clears things up. Thanks again very much for the reviews. Istalindar

&

Draco, although shocked by the girl who sat on the windowsill, so blank-eyed and still that she didn't even look at him, wasn't surprised. He'd never seen the girls his father had broken before, Lucius had made sure of that. But Blaise had seen one of the girls Zabini Snr had done. And he said it'd given him nightmares.

This was the stuff of nightmares.

She was pale, all the colour gone from her skin. She was so skinny as to be weightless, and a tray of food sat untouched at the table next to her. No one had touched her hair for days it was so matted, and her eyes were blank, as though she were empty. Like someone had taken her soul out of her and left the husk.

So this is what happened to the thralls when they were discarded. Draco felt sick.

He turned and quickly locked the door behind him, using warding spells learnt both at home, at school and in the restricted section of the library that he wasn't supposed to visit, and then quickly crossed to her side, perching on the edge of the seat and taking her face in his hands.

"Hermione. Hermione!" He called, trying to get her to focus on him. She was too far gone, her eyes on him but her gaze far, far away. Draco closed his eyes, and gently pushed into her mind.

He didn't like occlumency. As his father's son Draco had been trained in it as soon as his young mind could take it, or as soon as Lucius judged it could. But the training had hurt as Lucius forced his way into his young son's mind, moulding it and teaching it, pushing and pulling it into the optimum shape. Thanks to his mother's much more gentle and subtle teaching, his mind hadn't been destroyed. But forever after he saw occlumency as a violation as bad as rape, with equal consequences. Pushing into Hermione's mind like this went against everything he had ever though about occlumency.

But he was going to lose her if he didn't. And he was damned if he was going to let his father take the one girl in school who was smart enough and bold enough and brave enough to stand up to him and turn her into a zombie.

Her mind opened to him easily, so easily in fact that he knew his father had been here. And the evidence was everywhere. Had it been visible, Draco could have imagined Lucius' influence as a silver-grey sticky web draped over everything, tainting it. Within Hermione's mind, the web would have been everywhere.

All she was thinking of was Lucius. Replaying over and over little images, memories of them in her mind. A lot of them Draco didn't want to see. He didn't want to see those memories and watch his father play the same cat-and-mouse games he played with every woman except Narcissa, because Narcissa was more often than not the cat at the end of the day. One with claws.

Draco delved deeper, searching for Hermione behind the lovesick shell on the surface. The metaphorical gummy web of Lucius' influence held him back, obstructing his way in. Draco didn't want to push: too violent an entry could tear her mind, hurt her in ways Lucius had yet to touch on. But he slipped through the gaps in Lucius' web, descending into her dark mind.

And suddenly, he found her. A tiny glowing spark, a chip of amber, glowing in a velvety dark. She was so fragile, so tiny and weak that Draco was afraid to touch her. Was afraid to bring her up to the surface where it was cold and bright and filled with Lucius. He reached out to her and the glow dimmed, and he jerked back. She was afraid. She had retreated into this dark part of herself where she was slowly dying, and she feared the intrusion to her mind. Draco hesitated, unsure. If he'd been Potter or Weasley, it would have been easier. She trusted them, they were her friends. Those three had bonds beyond friendship, because of what they had faced together and knew they would face again, together.

But Draco wasn't them. All he and Hermione had behind them was years of fighting, bitterness, competition and cruelty. Except for that time he kissed her to free her from his father, however momentarily.

That might do it. It would have to, it was the only good memory the two of them shared.

He brought it to the forefront of his mind but didn't push it to her. Just did what Lucius had told him never to do and opened his mind completely, no guards, so she could see it and decide whether she wanted it or not. The spark brightened, and Draco hoped it meant she was looking, or at least interested. It brightened still further, and then, suddenly, she stepped into him.

It was chaos. Because of the openness of his mind she had full access and because he was so deep in hers he did too. The memories were flashing and blending together, her childhood and his, her life at Hogwarts, so different from his, blended together. Until, as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

Draco recognised the memory they were in. The only non-confrontational memory of them both he owned, as far as he knew, and he knew she had it too. In the library, nearing the end of fifth year, only a month or so before she disappeared. The library itself was empty apart from them both, and they ignored each other. He had better things to do than start something and she wasn't going to start something if he didn't. He remembered this memory.

This was like being in a pensieve, only slightly different, as he could see her, and he knew she could see him.

"Hermione?" He asked softly. Her head jerked up from her book and she met his gaze. She frowned, suddenly confused to be there.

"Malfoy?" He stood slowly.

"Hermione, you have to listen to me." He said slowly and calmly. She frowned further, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"Why are you talking to me like that?" She asked.

"Do you know what's going on?" Draco asked. He prayed she'd say yes.

"Of course." He sighed in relief. "We've got a potions exam tomorrow morning. We're studying, because it seems we're the only ones who care." Draco stared in horror. The last thing he wanted was for her to get trapped in his mind, because it meant he was probably trapped in hers unless he wanted to risk pushing her out. Then she shook her head.

"Déjà vu." She said. She rolled her eyes. "Isn't it weird? I got the strongest déjà vu."

"We're in a memory, Hermione." Draco said. "Like a pensieve."

"Visitors can't talk to people in pensieves." Hermione said laughingly. "So either you're wrong, or we're both visitors. And that just doesn't happen. Because I remember this, so it must be my memory."

"You remember this?" Draco pounced on that. "But if it's a pensieve, and your memory, you can't see me. If it's my memory, seeing as I was here too, then I can't see you. But you already remember it, don't you? It's not déjà vu, you can remember." Hermione stared at him across the table, and he could practically hear her brain working. Unlike her male counterparts, you could always rely on Hermione to think through something, especially when presented with a problem like this one. Draco was pretty sure she enjoyed them.

"I remember." She said slowly. "But not a pensieve, because you're here and I'm speaking to you. Which is weird as it is." She added with a quick smile. "Do you remember?" He nodded, and she frowned, biting her bottom lip as she thought. Then she shook her head. "I can do some research." She rose and Draco grabbed her wrist.

"I know the answer." He said quickly. "But you'd have to trust me." She smiled, gently extricating her wrist from him.

"Malfoy, you've never given me any reason to trust you." She said, not unkindly. He nodded.

"I know. But please, it's kind of urgent."

"Malfoy-"

"Think about it. We're in a shared memory, together, as active partners. That poses problems."

"Because you're in my mind and I'm in yours." Hermione said slowly, understanding. She met his gaze. "That's horribly dangerous." She chided.

"Not so much as other stuff you've done." Draco muttered. He held out his hand. "I know how to get us out, but you have to trust me completely, and you can't change your mind or you could kill us both." She hesitated, looking at his hand as though it were some trick. And then she lifted her chin defiantly, and laid her hand in his, cool fingers closing tightly.

Now she was here, that tiny spark beside him and trusting him, he could raise her up. Very slowly, he extricated her from the darkness of her head. But when he came to Lucius' web, she faltered.

Hermione. He said into her mind. You have to trust me. 

I can't get past. She replied, and he was relieved to hear her sounding so healthy. This is how he locked me out in the first place. You have to get rid of the influence, then I can get past. He hesitated. Leave me here, and get rid of it. He gently released her, watching to ensure she didn't fade and fail back into the darkness. She stayed, glowing steadily just under the grey net.

Don't touch it. I'm going to try and get rid of it. Trust me. He said.

I do. With her simple admission, Draco passed the web, and in the main part of her mind, where the repeating images of her and Lucius still played, Draco tried to tear at the web, but didn't succeed. Lucius was well-established and didn't look set to be moved. Draco wracked his brain, trying to think of something. All he could think of though was the spark under the web, waiting for him. Trusting him beyond the limits of anyone trusting him before. He tried to think. How would a Thrall be thrown off a person? He looked around the main part of her mind. There were the images everywhere, and an air of resignation. Just like she'd been last time he was here, when he challenged her relationship with his father, and she'd replied at least she was Voldemort's pet. She hadn't understood then, what this would be like. So he'd kissed her and-

Of course. He'd kissed her and the thrall had lifted. It made sense. Replace Lucius with someone else and Lucius' thrall would be broken.

Trust me. He said again. There was no answer, and he hoped that was because the web blocked her out. Then he gently extricated himself from her mind, sitting back from where he'd been leaning into her, their foreheads together.

He released her and walked around the room a bit, grounding himself. Anyone who did divination, even for a short time, knew that people who didn't ground ended up as batty as Trelawney. When he felt solid enough, he returned to her side, lifted her chin, and kissed her.

She didn't kiss back, she was as blank as before. But there was a spark, teeny tiny in her eyes, that faded as soon as he pulled back, barely giving him a glimpse. So she was in there, and it was working. Just. He kissed her again, and again and again, as deeply and as thoroughly as he could. This had to work.

He was close to giving up when her mouth moved under his and he pulled back to stare at her. There was a faint spark in her eyes.

"Draco?" Her voice was faint, from lack of use or from weakness of presence he didn't know. "More." Draco grinned, leaning in to kiss her again, his tongue at her lips pushing from entrance. They parted and he cupped her head with his hand, holding her to him. Her other hand jerkily grabbed his, and he stopped, shocked, when she pressed it to her breast. The spark in her eyes was fading already.

"Draco…please." She whispered. "More. Not Lucius." He nodded, leaning in to kiss her again. He'd been right, replace Lucius and his thrall would be gone. And while he'd admit to no one that he'd had fantasies about her in that uniform, he'd never envisaged something like this. "I'm sorry." She said against his mouth, still kissing him. "This isn't fair."

"No." He pulled back and framed her face with his hands, pressing kisses to her cheeks and nose and forehead and eyes. "Thrallage is not fair. This is my gift to you." He kissed her again, sliding off the windowseat and bringing her with him, supporting her against his body when it seemed her legs wouldn't hold her. He carried her over to the bed and laid her down, not breaking contract with her mouth. He slowly undressed her, helped by her slow shaking hands that pushed first at hers then at his clothing until they were naked. He brought the bed covers from under her and pulled them over the pair of them, lying against her, his mouth wandering from her mouth, down her neck towards her chest. One of her cold hands rested on the back on his head, encouraging him.

And it struck him that this might be the most meaningful sex he might ever have.

&

He woke to find her watching him, still curled against his chest the way she had been when he fell asleep. The spark was back in her eyes now, and he realised with a pang of regret that it had been gone for a long time, even at Christmas. She smiled and leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

"I want to thank you." She said quietly. "For finding me." He gave a half-smile. "And for bringing me out. And throwing off his thrall."

"Are you sure it's gone?" Draco asked. She raised one eyebrow. He hastily backpedalled as he realised his innuendo. "I don't mean it like that. I just…I don't want to see you like that again."

"Draco, I never knew you cared." She said with a badly concealed smile. He shook his head, all humour gone.

"I wouldn't want to see Potter like that." He said, the seriousness of his words silencing her. "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

"Is Harry your worst enemy?" She asked quietly. Draco looked at her quizzically, and she explained. "In terms of Hogwarts, perhaps he is. But the big picture…Draco, you've worked against your father, against Voldemort by pulling me out. It's what Harry would have wanted, would have tried, if he'd been here. You worked with him."

"Are you saying I'm a white hat?" He asked wryly. She shrugged elegant, if bony, shoulders.

"I'm saying you made a decision." She said, and paused, then met his gaze. Her bronze eyes burned into his. "And while I will always, _always_ be grateful to you for that decision, will you be able to live with it?" She hesitated, then continued. "If Voldemort ever finds out, he'll kill you. If Lucius doesn't get there first." Draco shook his head.

"You don't know it, but I've made failsafes." He said quietly, raising one hand to push a knotted curl off her cheek, his thumb crossing her skin. "Plans. To protect me and mine from when this comes crashing down. Dark Lords never reign forever, Hermione, and this one is past his best, I think. The time is come to stop dwelling on some glorious past that likely as not never happened, and start thinking of a future which will." Hermione bit her lip and smiled, before pushing up to kiss his cheek beside his nose.

"You were always more remarkable than Lucius." She said quietly. "Always more of a wild card. You never declared for one or the other." She smiled. "You might not care but I'm very proud of you. You turned out better than I could have hoped." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You had hopes?" He asked with a grin, raising onto his elbow and leaning over her. She grinned.

"Yep."

"About me?" She giggled as he leaned forward, brushing his longish hair over her face.

"Yep."

"Really." He ducked his head and kissed her hesitantly, not sure if she was okay with this now that she wasn't in thrall anymore and could actually think of something other than Lucius. To his surprise and delight, she curled one hand around his neck to pull him down to her, opening her mouth to his. He pulled back gently.

"It means something." He said softly, unsure of what he was getting out or if this was even the right time. "That you cared, that you hoped I'd be better. That you're proud of me."

"I am." She whispered. "More than you can imagine." He grinned, leaning down to kiss her again.

&

When she woke again he was gone, though there was a note barely sticking out from underneath her pillow. When she opened it, it was very brief.

Thank you. And you're welcome.

It was somehow very Draco, concise, to the point. And touching, despite its simplicity. Hermione smiled.

It was strange, being free of that bloody thrall. She could think for herself. She wasn't mooning over Lucius Malfoy of all people. How the bloody hell had that happened?

She supposed it had been very slow, from the beginning. Helped along by a touch of Stockholme Syndrome. Like Draco had said, she automatically felt Lucius was her saviour when he yelled at Madeleine and rescued her from the dungeons. Then it could have been the contact when he reset all her broken bones, his soft conversation about the fallability of the pureblood supremecy theory. That could have been, and probably was, the start. Then…the gifts, the bracelet, the clothes. The attention. She followed after him like a puppy to a generous master, and she supposed that was exactly what she had been. And the occlumency classes…that was the worst. She'd asked for those, and probably taken the thrallship from him with a smile by doing so. He was in her mind, whenever he wanted. He was so much stronger than her, he could have been in her mind every night all night, dropping tiny hints, laying the groundwork to have her devoted to him.

She'd been such an idiot. And it was only thanks to Draco's…whatever, that she'd been saved at all.

She didn't understand Draco. While part of her, the dippy, born-blonde romantic part, wanted to believe it was because he cared about her, the more skeptical, realistic, born-to-survive part said it was something more. He'd saved her…why? To spite his father? To spite Voldemort? To put her and her friends in his debt? There was something in it for him, she just wasn't sure what. After all, he'd risked a lot. Not only Voldemort's wrath and that of his father, but the act itself was extremely risky. Reaching that deep into her mind could have killed her and trapped Draco. The melding they underwent when she accepted his offering of the memory of that first kiss could have killed them both or trapped them in each others mind. Hell, even the splitting, when he left her below Lucius' influence might have hurt them.

It was very, very risky. And he'd done it. So what was in it for him?

Not that it really mattered. She doubted she'd see him again any time soon, which simply left herself to think of. Somehow she had to replicate the thralled wraith that she had become, and somehow make a believable comeback. She couldn't get out of here in the state she was in: she was weak and had suffered muscle degradation while she'd been pining. She'd been out for three months, give or take a few weeks. She needed to recover slowly, say two weeks, before she began walking around again. She'd say she was fighting to get him back. It did mean that she'd have to throw herself at him, but as long as she could do that without him discovering she was free, she'd be alright. She'd grit her teeth and bear it, because the only way she was getting out of here was if she was stronger, clear-minded and giving the impression that she wanted nothing more to fawn at Lucius' feet.

The thought made her sick, and she swallowed.

One of the biggest problems was the thrall itself, and occlumency. When in Draco's head, when she accepted the memory of the kiss, part of what he had noticed was when he kissed her, the thrall was pushed back and she was free, however briefly. That meant that the thrall was visible in her eyes, which meant that Lucius and/or Voldemort would be able to see it, or the lack of it as the case may be. Then, of course, was the problem of occlumency. She was still a fairly new occlumence, not an expert or even a practised novice by any means. Lucius and Voldemort were both accomplished, clever and determined occlumences. They'd see in her mind in an instant that she was free and that Draco had done it. That wasn't something she could allow: the last thing she was going to do was let Draco take the fall. And she didn't want to fall back into that black chasm of her own mind either. So.

Problems.

Hermione quietly dressed and settled herself on the windowseat, staring out at the now green countryside and thinking hard.

&

She saw Draco one last time before he headed back to Hogwarts. It was only brief, but it was enough. He knocked and entered like he usually did, crossing to where she stood by the window and kissing her briefly.

"I'm going." He said. "Back to school. But I promise you, I will get you out of here." She nodded.

"Draco, can you-"

"I can't talk to your friends." He cut her off. "You know I can't. They'd only do something stupid and get you all in more trouble. Just trust me. I'll get you out. I promise." He dropped two books on her bed. "These are for you. They will help." He paused, looking at her pale face and perhaps he could see the longing in her eyes, to leave and be free.

"Soon." He promised.

"I trust you." She said quietly. He smiled.

"I'm glad." He kissed her again, this time more thoroughly, before pulling back and kissing her forehead, then turning away and striding out the door. That was it. He was gone, back to the school where she should have been except for this stupid trick of fate.

Still, he gave her a kind of strength. He hadn't forgotten her, and he hadn't abandoned her. And he was going to help her to get out as well. The books he had left on her bed were on occlumency, in his own handwriting. They were more like journals, notes from when he learnt, ways he learnt to protect himself and strike out. They would help her against Lucius.

The cynical part of her spoke up again, asking what he wanted in return for such a favour.

Hermione didn't know. That was the thing with Draco: you never knew at what price his favours came. But you never really knew anything about Draco. Not what side he fought on, not his reasons for what he did, and not to whom his loyalties lay. It made him an exceedingly dangerous person, easily more so than his father.

After all, Lucius you could trust to side with Voldemort and therefore be one of the 'bad guys'. Draco you just couldn't trust.

&

Time was moving on, ever more swiftly now that Hermione could again think for herself. She spent her days reading and thinking and plotting, trying to figure a way out of this. Despite Draco's promise for help, she wanted to have backup plans. She didn't doubt him, she just…

It wasn't that she didn't trust him. Because she did. After what he had done to go into her head and bring her out again she would probably always trust him. She just didn't know if he could figure out how to beat Lucius. Not that she thought she'd be any better, it was just that if she messed up, then she wouldn't have anyone to blame but herself.

Another thing to distract her was that she was summoned again by Voldemort. She was dressed in her customary rich black, and again Lucius accompanied her to the meeting. She knelt, she bowed, she scraped and she muttered praise for the Dark Lord under her breath. And through it all she felt Voldemort keep a sharp eye on her. And at the end of it he merely commented to Lucius:

"She's stronger than you think."

But because she was still skinny, because her legs were still weak and she used a staff, because she didn't look Lucius in the eye anymore or she sniffed pathetically whenever he spoke to her, Lucius didn't believe the Dark Lord. Or at least he didn't take notice. Hermione was always especially careful these days to keep her occlumency walls well up, not to let him in even for a second. At night when she slept she would go to sleep repeating techniques in her head to keep him out in the vain hope that it would when she was asleep. She just didn't know, and without her wand she had no way to protect herself other that with her own mind.

She didn't sleep well, anymore. Her dream, the one where she chased the rubies, appeared every so often, and sometimes it was Gemma alighting from the carriage and sometimes it was Voldemort. Other times she dreamt of Draco, of the feeling of surfacing from a deep black sea as he kissed her. Very rarely did she dream of Lucius, and what they had. It had been reduced to nothing in her mind now, and anytime she remembered it, which she did as little as possible, it was with contempt and disgust.

Hard to keep from the blonde man, but possible.

And now that he seemed to go through mistress after mistress, without recognition of Hermione's mere presence in the house, Hermione was free to do as she liked as long as she didn't push the boundaries, as long as she didn't act too much like her old self.

It was hard, now that she was getting healthier again, to act weak and lovesick and forlorne when in fact all she wanted to do was hex the man into oblivion and then kick his spell-ridden corpse.

&


	8. Chapter 7

Hey guys. Here's another update for you, I hope you enjoy it. Just a small note: I've been wrong on a slightly technical note (thank you CareBearErin for pointing it out), in that occlumency is blocking someone from your mind, and legilimency is going into someone's mind. So when Draco went into Hermione's mind it was legilimency, not occlumency. I've not corrected myself in past chapters, but I've made an effort to correct myself in this one and the future chapters, though I may have missed a few. I haven't really distinguished between the two the way JKR does, but you guys know what I'm talking about in the story, right? Any more technical things I've gotten wrong please tell me, it's good to know people are paying enough attention to spot them!

Hope you enjoy this next bit, it's flowing well so far, so hopefully updates will be pretty regular. Enjoy. Istalindar

&

Term ended for the summer, and Draco returned triumphant as the highest scoring student in their year. He'd been picked as Head Boy for Seventh Year, too. A Ravenclaw girl had gotten Head Girl, Hermione didn't catch her name, though she did mutter bitterly about how that position should have been hers.

Draco came to see her only once, his visit as brief as his last. There was a dark revel in three weeks, held at Malfoy Manor in honour of the Dark Lord. Everyone would be there, and that's where Draco would get Hermione out. He had it all planned, though when Hermione asked how he shook his head and didn't answer, leaving her to trust in him.

In the meantime she spent a lot of thought trying to work out how she'd appear to be a thrall when it was obvious to anyone who looked her in the eye that she wasn't one. There weren't even any spells she could ask Draco to perform to make her look thrallish. She just had to keep her head down and play the pathetic castoff and hope people bought it, and that no one wanted to look her in the eye and gloat.

It was the only plan she had, so it had to work.

The day of the revel she was presented with a black dress, very plain with a black bodice and skirt, and lace sleeves. There was jet jewelery to go with it and she had one of the House-Elves put her hair up and do her makeup, and then she was ready. She was incredibly nervous, she had no idea how this was going to work. The revel would be full of people, which theoretically should make it easier for her to escape, but as Voldemort's pet, the Dark Lord at least would probably be keeping an eye on her. She just didn't know, and the only thing she could do was trust Draco. And hope for the best.

Lucius escorted her to the revel, and she didn't meet his gaze, she just whined a little about how he never came to see her anymore. He snorted but didn't answer, contempt coming off him in waves. Hermione tightened the walls around her mind, playing images of their past together for him to see so he thought she was still enthralled.

He brought her to the revel, the ballroom of the manor filled with people in black dancing, talking or just people-watching. Hermione didn't see Draco and didn't look for him. Lucius brought her before Voldemort and she knelt, murmuring the usual pledges of loyalty, and accepting his hand to sit at his feet. She kept her eyes down and her mind blank. This was crunch time, when it really mattered. If she was ever going to succeed at something, this had to be it.

Or she and Draco would be dead.

As the night wore on Hermione was called upon to dance with Voldemort and Lucius, though she was mostly left to her own devices. Once she saw Draco and met his gaze, but he looked swiftly away, revealing nothing to her.

She had to trust him.

It was hard to stop from worrying constantly though, about what would happen, how she'd escape, where she'd go. But she had to stop thinking about it, or else Lucius or Voldemort or some other random accomplished legilimens in the crowd would pick up on it and they'd be screwed. She focused hard on blocking her mind from everyone else, using the techniques she'd learnt from Draco's occlumency diaries that he'd lent her.

She had to trust him.

Eventually she couldn't stand it anymore, her mind whirling and becoming hard to keep a fast grip on, so she escaped to the garden. She suspected that Lucius might have picked up on her guarded mind and that he might be trying to confuse her so she let her guard down, but once she was in the garden, away from the music and the whirling black of all the dancers, her mind cleared and she could reset all the boundaries.

A soft step on the gravel made her whirl, and she saw Draco standing there, his black robes making him seem even paler, and the moonlight lending no warmth to his appearance.

"Draco." She said quietly.

"The deatheaters have gone down to perform the rituals." He said quietly. "I've been assigned to look after you." She nodded and he moved quickly to her side. "This will turn into a portkey in a minute." He said, pressing a silver necklace into her hand. From the chain hung a hammered silver snake. "And here." He closed her hand around her wand, and she revelled in the feeling of having it back. "The portkey will take you to the Weasley house." He explained quickly. "Its warded that no one but the Weasleys and Potter can get in by Portkey, so you'll have to walk in from the edge of the property. When you're there, make sure you speak to Dumbledore. He knows what's going on. Then get out, my father will probably follow you there. Make sure they move as well. If my father comes, stun him. Break his wand and send him back here using the spell 'remurno', it'll send him back here as long as it's linked to something from the house, the snake necklace will do it." He smiled. "I promised I'd get you out."

"Thank you." She whispered. He nodded and kissed her forehead. "For everything." She rose up to kiss him but their lips barely touched before she felt the jerk of the Portkey and she was suddenly spinning and tumbling through space.

And then she was there.

&

She landed unsteadily and her legs gave, making her collapse into a heap on the muddy ground. Clearly it had been raining more here than at the Manor. She clambered to her feet with the help of a nearby fence and hobbled down the hill towards the precarious building she recognised as the Burrow. She was halfway down when a crack made her spin, clinging to the fence. Lucius stood there, looking cold and beautiful and absolutely furious.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded. "Hermione, get back here."

"No." She said quietly, and quickly raised her wand. "Stupefy!" He was flung backwards and when she cautiously approached him, he was out cold. She snapped his wand as per Draco's instructions and bound to two pieces together with the ruby and silver bracelet he'd given to her for her birthday. Then she raised her wand again. "Remurno." At first she thought she'd gotten it wrong, because his body stayed. Then it wavered and vanished and she sighed in relief. "Good riddance." She muttered, turning back down the hill and half walking, half running down it towards the house. The sooner she was inside, the safer she'd be.

Her legs were practically gone by the time she splashed into the muddy courtyard in front of the house, and she collapsed against the door, banging on it with both fists and yelling. It was nearly four in the morning, it was logical for them all to be asleep but none of them were that deep sleepers…they couldn't be, not with George and Fred in the house.

The door was finally opened by Arthur Weasley, who stared at Hermione, confused.

"Mr Weasley, it's me." She gasped. "Hermione. You have to let me in I don't know how long it'll be before they come for me." He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the house, dropping her onto a chair and shutting and warding the door.

"Hermione?" He asked, turning to her and folding his arms.

"Mr Weasley, please listen. I was kidnapped from King's Cross the day we came home from Hogwarts a year ago. I was taken to Malfoy Manor where I was kept under Lucius Malfoy's surveillance. I was made into a toy near enough for Voldemort's amusement and Draco helped me escape. You have to believe me."

"It's a far fetched story." Arthur said, his tone not convinced. She sighed.

"When Ron was four the twins transfigured his teddy bear into a spider because he snapped their broom and he's been afraid of them ever since. They also tried to make him make an unbreakable vow but when you caught them you tanned their backsides and they swear it's not been the same since. A couple years ago-"

"Enough." Arthur held up his hand. "I believe you. "It's simply that you look rather well kept."

"You should have seen me two months ago." She muttered. "Mr Weasley, Draco sent me here, and told me to get in touch with Dumbledore as soon as I got here, apparently he knows I'm here." Arthur nodded.

"Fine. I'll contact Dumbledore and we'll see what he says. Until then, stay right there."

"Arthur?" Hermione and Arthur looked up to see Molly at the base of the stairs. "What's going on?"

"Hermione's back." Arthur said crisply. "I'm about to contact Dumbledore. Apparently he knows she's here."

"Oh, you dear dear child." Molly cried, rushing forward and crushing Hermione into her arms. Hermione relaxed, relishing in the feeling of being home again.

"Molly, watch her. I'm going to contact Dumbledore. Don't forget that she could be a spy." Arthur warned.

"Arthur, it's Hermione." Molly argued reasonably.

"She's been away for a year, Molly." Arthur reminded her. "A lot can happen in that time. Watch her, please." Molly nodded, and Arthur disappeared into the back room, and after a few moments Hermione heard him speaking into the fire.

"Mum?" Hermione and Molly looked up to see Charlie and Bill on the stairs, woken by the noise. "What's going on?"

"Hermione's back." Molly exclaimed, and quickly dropped her voice when her eldest sons shushed her. "Dad's telling Dumbledore." Bill and Charlie quickly came downstairs and hugged Hermione tightly.

"Hun, where have you been?" Bill asked, hugging her tightly then holding her at arms length to look at her.

"Wild party." Charlie commented, also looking at her.

"A Dark Revel at the Malfoy's." Hermione said quietly. "Draco got me out in the middle of it."

"Draco?" Charlie asked. "As in Draco Malfoy?" He sounded unbelieving.

"He's a wild card." Hermione said quietly, remembering what she had said to Draco. "He never declared one way or the other."

"Makes him dangerous." Bill commented quietly. "Unpredictable." Hermione nodded. "What does he want in exchange?" Bill questioned. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Yet." Charlie addeed. She nodded.

"Yet."

"Hermione, Dumbledore said he's been expecting you and that he's pleased you arrived safely. He wants to see you for a moment though, you can floo through and back again." Hermione nodded, rising slowly to her feet and wavering a little.

"Are you alright?" Charlie asked. She nodded.

"Fine." She smiled and walked into the other room, where she saw Dumbledore's face in the fireplace.

"Miss Granger, I'm glad to see you well. Come through, if you would." One glowing hand reached out from the fireplace and Hermione hesitantly took it, and suddenly she was pulled through, standing in Dumbledore's office in beside the Headmaster. Without speaking he took her head in his hands and stared hard into her eyes. She stared back.

"Draco was right." Dumbledore said quietly, releasing her. "He did manage to lift the thrall." Hermione felt awkward. Exactly how much had Draco said about lifting the thrall? This could get extremely embarrassing. "You needn't worry," he added cheerfully, "He said nothing about the raising except that it had been done. I will send you back to the Weasley's now, you need some sleep and, I think, to see your friends. We will talk again later at a more hospitable hour." She nodded, and he tossed floo powder into the flames, making them flare green. He nudged her gently forward.

"The Burrow." She said clearly, glancing once more at the headmaster before stepping through and coming out in the room she had left barely two minutes ago. Arthur, Molly, Charlie and Bill were waiting for her.

"She can stay in my room." Charlie volunteered. "She needs rest. I'll sleep on the couch." Arthur nodded.

"Fine. She can see the others in the morning, there's no need to wake them now." Everyone agreed, and headed up the stairs for their respective beds. Charlie led her to his room and dug out boxers and a t-shirt for her.

"I promise you they're clean." He said with a smile. Hermione smiled but looked away. This was strange, and the implications of what she'd done, what Draco had done, suddenly hit her and she sank onto the bed in a rustle of silk. Charlie was in front of her instantly. "Hermione? What is it? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She said, laying her hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "Just…it just kinda hit me just then. That I'm free." She smiled, but Charlie still seemed confused.

"That should be a good thing though." Charlie said. "Right?" She nodded.

"It is." She agreed. "But…he's never going to let me go, Charlie. They're going to hunt me because I got away, because I tricked them. They can't let that slide. And if they ever find out that Draco helped me, that he freed me from being a thrall and that he got me out of the revel and sent me here, they'll kill him."

"Draco really helped you? You mean it?" Charlie asked incredulously. "That rat-faced Malfoy brat?"

"He's not eleven anymore, Charlie." She said with a smile. "He grew up, suprisingly enough." Charlie shook his head.

"I'm not so sure, but I'll let it slide." He decided. "But about you being a thrall? You are aware that thralls are extremely difficult to cast off, right?" She nodded.

"I read all about them afterwards." She said. "But Draco managed it. It helped that we were both legilimens, it meant he could get into my head and get rid of it."

"You're both legilimens?" Charlie sat back a little, looking wary. "Since when?"

"Lucius taught us. Him years ago, me before Christmas." Hermione said. "Relax, Charlie. It's not something I use regularly."

"But Malfoy used it to get into your head." Charlie said. "And you didn't say he could."

"At that point I was dying, Charlie." Hermione said gently. "I wasn't saying anything. All I could think of was Lucius."

"The thrall."

"Yeah." Hermione confirmed. Charlie was silent for a few moments.

"You should get some sleep." He said, rising and pulling her to her feet as well. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day, I think. Between seeing your friends again and going back to Hogwarts to see Dumbledore and who knows what else, you're going to need your sleep." Hermione nodded.

"Thanks, Charlie." She said. He smiled and slipped out of the room, leaving her to get changed. Before she went to bed she fished the snake necklace out of the secret pocket in the bodice of the dress and clipped it around her neck.

She never wanted to forget for an instant what Draco had done for her.

&

She was dreaming again, running round and round the Manor, confronted by the black snakes at every turn. She tripped on one as she passed the stairs and suddenly she was sliding down the stairs, and she landed in a pit full of them, crawling over her and hissing in her ears. And suddenly they weren't snakes anymore, but the creatures Voldemort had shown her. She felt a scream building, and she fought to keep it down, to not give them the satisfaction of making her scream, but she couldn't keep it down, so she screamed.

And woke to see Charlie leaning over her, Bill hovering in the doorway.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed, tapping her face gently to get her attention, to bring her back to the real world. "It's okay. You're safe." She nodded, still gasping for breath, and Charlie pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "It's okay, Hermione." Once she'd quietened, Charlie released her, pulling back.

"I'm fine." She said with a weak smile. "Just a bad dream." Charlie nodded.

"It's over." He said, and she knew he wasn't just talking about the dream. "And now you're safe and you can relax." She nodded. "Do you want to come down for breakfast? Mum's expecting you, I think she believes they starved you." Hermione laughed wryly.

"That was the least of my problems." She swung her legs out of bed, and Charlie took her hand, leading her down the stairs behind Bill. When they reached the bottom Hermione hesitated. She could hear everyone, including Ron and Harry.

Harry, her boyfriend.

Oh god.

She hadn't even thought of that, and the fact that they were supposedly in love with each other. And she had been, a year ago. She could only hope he'd moved on too.

Bill caught her hesitation and took her hand, leading her down the last steps. When they reached the bottom of the stairs they paused. The twins saw them first and whistled.

"My oh my." Fred crowed. "That is called incest."

"Ugh." Ginny grimaced and threw a piece of toast at him, which caught him in the nose. "Don't be foul."

"Someone had a guest last night." George said, ignoring his brother's folly. "The question is who." Ginny finally looked up at the girl between her brothers and dropped her knife, which landed with a clatter on her plate and slid to the floor, flicking jam everywhere. She jumped to her feet and ran to Hermione, pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh god." She whispered, tears running past her smile. "You came back." Hermione smiled and hugged her back.

"Of course." Hermione said. "I had some help, but of course I came back." Ginny smiled.

"Gin, what's the deal?" Hermione watched Harry walk into the dining room from the kitchen with a plate full of food, but then he saw her, met her gaze, and the plate slipped from his fingers, smashing all over the floor.

"Merlin, Harry!" Ron explained, coming up behind him. "What's your problem?" Ginny released Hermione and stepped to the side so her brother could see, and Ron promptly proceeded to drop his plate too.

"Hermione?" Ron whispered. Suddenly Harry was in front of her, touching her face with hesitant fingers.

"You're back." Harry said softly. Hermione bit her lip and nodded, and Harry crushed her into a hug, kissing the side of her head fiercely. "You're back…where have you been?" Hermione was about to answer, but Arthur stepped into the dining room, looking down at the mess the boys had made.

"Hermione, Dumbledore wants to see you now if you're ready." Hermione nodded, stepping out of Harry's grasp and turning to Ron.

"Hey there." She said with a broken smile, blinking back tears. She'd missed Ron and Harry so much. Ron pulled her into a tight hug, then let her go.

"You have to go see Dumbledore." Ron said. "You can tell us later." Hermione nodded, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do; how was she going to explain to Harry and Ron that Draco was responsible for her escape and for the fact she wasn't a thrall anymore?

"Come on Hermione." Arthur said gently, and she nodded, stepping gingerly over the mess of food and broken glass into the kitchen. Behind her she could hear Ron and Harry confronting Bill and Charlie about when she had gotten there, but couldn't turn back as Arthur had a gentle but unrelenting pressure on her back driving her towards the fireplace. He handed her the floo and she stepped into the large fireplace, throwing the powder at her feet and disappearing in a flare of green flame.

She stepped out in Dumbledore's office, where the Headmaster waited along with Professor McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall leapt to her feet with a gasp and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. Hermione hugged her back awkwardly until the Scottish woman released her.

"As I have said, Hermione returned to the Weasley's safely last night." Dumbledore said. Snape nodded to her. "Miss Granger, painful as this may be, I need you to recount your experiences from the time you were kidnapped a year ago." Hermione nodded, and sank into a chair. "Take your time, we need to know as much as we can." Hermione took a deep breath.

"It's okay, professor, I can do this." She assured him. She closed her eyes, and began.

It was harder than she thought. She cried a little when she remembered the pain she experienced in the dungeons, and looked apologetically at Snape when she explained how Lucius had discovered Snape was a white hat during the occlumency lesson. She cringed and fidgetted when she described the creatures she saw at her first meeting with Voldemort, flinching when she remembered how he killed Madeleine. She reluctantly told how she had Lucius became 'lovers', but recovered when she recounted Draco and her confrontation, when he discovered she was Lucius' thrall. She skimmed over how he managed to lift the thrall, focusing instead on how she worked after that to find her freedom and refine her legilimency. As soon as she said that, she felt a tickling in her mind, extremely subtle, and she slammed walls up against it so hard and fast that she saw Snape blanche. When he met her gaze she shrugged, unrepentent, and returned to her story. Snape exchanged a look with Dumbledore.

Her year had changed her. She'd grown up, very quickly, and it was possible she'd learnt more from the Malfoys, any of them, than she'd like to admit.

Hermione continued her story, including Draco's brief visit at the beginning of the summer and how he'd assured her everything was ready, and then she was talking about the Revel, and Dumbledore was questioning her closely about everyone she'd seen, what they'd done, what they'd spoken about. She felt bad when she had to tell him that eventually she had left the room to get away from it all and the insistent ache in her head, the chaos that swirled in her brain. She explained Draco's gift of the portkey and her arrival at the Burrow, and Dumbledore started nodded as she reached the part of the story that he knew about. When she was finished she took a deep breath, swallowing.

"That is remarkable." Dumbledore said finally. "You've survived better than I could have hoped."

"That's thanks to Draco, sir." She admitted. "I was dying before Easter, quite literally. I didn't move, I didn't eat, I didn't do anything. He brought me out of that." Dumbledore nodded.

"We know about the part he played, both in raising the thrall and in rescuing you." Dumbledore announced. "He came to me after Christmas, explaining."

"You knew I was there?" Hermione demanded, rising to her feet. "You _knew_?"

"There was nothing we could do." Snape said.

"Bullshit." Hermione spat.

"Think, Hermione." Snape urged. "If we stormed the Manor, all we would have done is condemn Draco and all that would be left of you is a thrall. This way everyone was safe."

"And if I hadn't gotten out tonight? If I'd been caught?" Hermione pressed.

"Then we would have thought up a new plan, and yes, we might have stormed the manor." Dumbledore said calmly. Hermione sat numbly, feeling betrayed. All that time she'd suffered, she'd worked, and they knew she was there.

"Hermione." McGonagall leant forward and took Hermione's hand, but Hermione shot her such a look that the professor sat back again. "We were keeping an eye on you. We would have known if it got too much for you to handle."

"Of course." Hermione said, that now-familiar feeling of resignation setting in. She sat back in her chair, looking at her three teachers. "So what now?"

"You need a place to go. The Weasleys can be moved to a safehouse but I would bet that there is barely anywhere on this planet where you'll be safe."

"We haven't dominated space travel yet sir." Hermione said dryly. Snape shot her a look, which she returned evenly. She was tired, annoyed, wearing ridiculous boxer shorts, and her teachers, the people she trusted to help, had betrayed her. She wasn't bothered if she pissed Snape off.

"However." Dumbledore ploughed on, ignoring her sarcasm. "There is another option." He turned to the fire and called for Charlie, who stepped through a few seconds later, brushing soot from his hair. "Charlie."

"Dumbledore." Charlie smiled, looking around the circle. "McGonagall. Snape." He focused on Hermione, immediately taking in her pissy mood. "Hermione." He moved to stand beside her, his tall presence beside her calming her down. "How can I help?"

"Charlie, I am aware that you are leaving Romania for another destination this afternoon." Dumbledore said. Charlie glanced briefly at the others in the room before returning his gaze to Dumbledore.

"Yes, but the location is top secret." He replied. Dumbledore nodded.

"I know. What I'm asking is that you take Hermione with you." Hermione looked up at Charlie and saw him frown, clearly thinking.

"Sir, that would mean-"

"Yes it would. It can of course be annulled should this situation pass, but," Dumbledore paused.

"It's never going to pass." Charlie finished. "Not until Voldemort falls and Lucius goes with him. Alright. I'll take her with me. It'll kill at least two birds with one stone."

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked, irritated by the cryptic conversation they were having.

"Where I'm going is top secret, for reasons I'll explain to you later. Researchers going to this location can only take spouses, girlfriends and the like aren't allowed."

"But we're not even…are you suggesting that we-"

"Hermione will you marry me?" Charlie asked with a grin. Hermione stared, then she looked back at Dumbledore.

"You can't do this." Hermione said flatly. "No offence to you Charlie," she flashed him a smile, "But if you marry me not only do you load yourself on a fairly permanent basis with a hunted person, but also if, by some wicked trick of fate you meet your soulmate and decide to get married and busy, there's going to be the small issue of your current wife in the way. And then of course you'll divorce me, and she'll want to know why we were married in the first place if you'll get rid of me so easily. Then you'll either have to lie to your soulmate, which I hear is a bad idea, or tell her the truth. Once she knows who knows who she'll tell, the game will be out and I'll be back to being hunted and/or dead. Making the whole exercise pointless." Hermione shrugged. "Nice plan though." Charlie chuckled.

"They did make you mad, didn't they?" He asked. Hermione glared.

"Yes." She ground out. Charlie smiled.

"Okay. Firstly, I've been aware since early this morning that this plan was in the works, so I've been thinking about it. Secondly, I know all the people going and despite the fact that at least three are female, they aren't my type. Namely because one is married and the other is gay, and the third just doesn't like me that much. Thirdly, you need somewhere far away and obscure to hide out, as well as a new name to protect you from location spells. I can give you both of those things, Hermione, and the great thing is, we get on, so you wouldn't even drive me mad."

"Charlie, I can't work with dragons." Hermione argued. "I know nothing about them!"

"You'll learn." Charlie shrugged. "Being there with them is the best education you could get. Frankly, you could have memorised every piece of literature ever written on dragons and I'd still say you know nothing until you get out there. And you're smart, so I can trust you not to do anything stupid." He grinned, taking her hand. "So, will you marry me?" Hermione sighed, knowing she was beaten.

"Alright." She said. She met his gaze. "I'll marry you."

"Marvelous." Dumbledore beamed. She glared at him.

&


	9. Chapter 8

Newest chapter folks. I've actually finished this story now (yay!), so there should be a fair amount of updates. Please tell me what you guys think, this story has taken me years to complete, so I'm interested in what you think of it. Please review. And most of all, enjoy. Istalindar.

&

Hermione and Charlie stepped back through the fireplace into the empty back room, and he pulled her into a hug.

"What did they say to turn you into a harpy?" He asked jokingly. She glared and he sobered. "No, seriously." She relented.

"They knew I was there." She said quietly. Charlie frowned, and tipped her chin up with one finger so he could look her in the eye.

"What?" He asked, shocked.

"They've known since after Christmas that I was at Malfoy Manor, and they decided to do nothing." Hermione elaborated. She bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know what I'm mad at, I understand their actions. By doing what they did, biding their time, they got me out and didn't risk Draco."

"Not too much." Charlie muttered. Hermione smiled.

"If they'd rushed the manor Lucius would have known that Draco told them. Draco would be as good as dead."

"All the same-"

"I turned into a harpy because they were insensitive enough to tell me they knew. That is about it, actually. Yes, I feel betrayed because they didn't storm the place, but I understand why not."

"Emotion versus reason." Charlie said. Hermione grinned.

"You understand me already." He shrugged with a grin.

"Shall we go break the news?" He asked. "We have to leave in two hours as it is."

"Is that it?" Hermione asked, surprised. Charlie nodded.

"Two in the afternoon. It's non-negotiable because of how they've arranged the keys to prevent tracing, so no one can work out where we're going to be."

"Wow." Hermione said quietly. "This is fast." Charlie nodded.

"I know. And I'm sorry." She shook her head with a smile.

"No, it's okay. The faster I'm out of here the safer everyone will be." She offered her arm. "Shall we?" Charlie laughed.

"We're going to have to work on this marriage, I can tell." He commented. Hermione laughed.

"Already?"

"I'm gonna need to know the best way to stop you turning into a harpy." Charlie answered with a smirk. "Or I might feed you to the dragons."

"I might feed _you_." Hermione retorted, and Charlie winked at her before leading her into the kitchen to face his, _their_ family.

"Huh?" Hermione rolled her eyes at her husband's youngest brother.

"I'm sorry, what?" Harry added. Hermione sighed, inwardly wincing at the hurt look in Harry's eyes. And now she knew what Lucius meant when he said she had thought loudly when she'd commented on Lucius and Draco looking handsome and how annoying it was: for an occlumence, Harry was thinking very loudly. And it was repetitive, pointless, and whiny.

"Harry, could you think a little quieter?" She snapped finally. "You're giving me a headache." She shook her head. "In an hour and a half I am leaving with Charlie, my husband, to go back to his dragon research. I'm sorry, but it's to protect everyone."

"We can take care of ourselves." Harry retorted. Hermione glared, the remnants of her pissy mood at Hogwarts regrouping for another attack.

"Harry, you are not everyone. By everyone I mean everyone who lives in this house. Possibly excluding the ghoul." Hermione took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

"What do you mean, think quieter?" Ron asked. Hermione look at him blankly, deciding not to answer that.

"You could hear what I was thinking?" Harry asked. He sounded whiny again, and this time it was out loud.

"Harry, Lucius Malfoy could probably hear you thinking." She retorted. "Look, I'm sorry, like I've said, that I didn't get to spend more time with you. Take comfort in the fact that I'm safe and well and-"

"Married to my brother. That's just weird."

"But now she's your sister." Ginny said, appearing at Hermione's side. "Hows that for weirdness? Anyway, Hermione. We need to get you some clothes so you have something more to wear in Romania than my brothers boxers." She smiled and towed Hermione away quickly.

"Thank you so much." Hermione muttered. "They were driving me mad."

"Charlie said you were going to sprout wings and eat their hearts if I didn't get you out of there." Ginny said wryly. "For the record? Harpy is not a sexy nickname. Does sound like Hermy though, so it might just work." Ginny grinned.

"Thank you." Hermione said sarcastically. "So much."

"Anytime." Ginny laughed and ushered Hermione into her room. "Now, I'm going to assume you need everything so I'm going to double everything. Then we can resize as necessary, you can stock up on toiletries and we can gossip as we go and we'll be done by two." Hermione stared at Ginny, who grinned.

"I'm becoming super efficient." Ginny explained.

"Yeah." Hermione agreed.

&

They were done by half one, which gave Hermione a chance to wander out to orchard to watch her two best friends play quidditch. She kept twisting the thin gold band around her finger as she stood and watched. Being married was very sudden. And while she liked Charlie, it was only platonically. Yes, he was handsome, and yes, he was lovely and funny and it appeared he could also calm her down when she was on the verge of hexing people, but she didn't love him. Didn't even _like_ like him. She'd always thought that when she got married, if she got married, it would because she was desperately in love with the man she said her vows to, that she would say every word as fervently as though her life depended on it.

She didn't imagine that she'd be married for convenience, even if it was to save her. She wasn't ungrateful, just a little put-off by the coldness of it.

"Hermione." Ron flew down to greet her, having finally spotted her. "How long have you been here?"

"About five minutes." She answered with a smile. "You're keeping has improved loads." Ron grinned.

"Yeah, well, I was rubbish at school." Hermione frowned and Ron rolled his eyes. "I forgot, I'm on the Gryffindor team as keeper. I was so rubbish Malfoy made up a song about me."

"How charming." Hermione said dryly. Ron nodded.

"Tell me about it. Harry's captain now, which everyone saw coming a mile off, and he's as bossy as Oliver was." Hermione grinned.

"Is that possible?"

"Ron, are we gonna play or what?" Harry barked from above them. Hermione nodded.

"It's possible." She conceded. Ron frowned.

"Hermione, he's as pleased as I am that you're back, it's just…well, he still likes you. Loves you even, and now you're married to Charlie, and god knows what happened when you were gone though I know none of it was what you wanted, he's feeling a little jealous, I guess." Ron winced, expecting an explosion.

"He's welcome to swap places with me if he wants." Hermione said levelly. "I appreciate it, Ron, that you're talking to me and all, and how well you've taken my marriage to Charlie, but Harry's gonna have to come to terms with this in his own way, I think." Ron nodded.

"You're right."

"It's just a shame I doubt he'll be able to do it before I leave in fifteen minutes." Hermione said, checking her watch. Ron winced.

"Really? That soon?"

"Pre-set portkeys." Hermione explained. "Non-negotiable time."

"Joy." Ron commented. He looked up at where Harry was circling aimlessly. "Harry! Get down here, Hermione's leaving in fifteen minutes!" Harry flew down and dismounted.

"What?" He asked. Hermione shrugged.

"I leave at two." She said simply.

"With Charlie." Harry said coldly.

"With Charlie." Hermione replied. "I'm going in to say by and thanks to everyone."

"I'll come with." Ron said instantly. "Not to say bye and thanks to everyone but-"

"I get it. Thanks Ron." Hermione said quickly. She kissed him on the cheek. "Can you give us a minute?" He nodded and headed inside, leaving Hermione and Harry alone.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. "We could visit."

"I don't think so." Hermione said. "We're going to a new site, apparently. Charlie hasn't said that much." Harry nodded, and there was an awkward pause. "Harry, I'm sorry." He shrugged.

"It's not your fault." He answered blankly.

"Then stop blaming me." Hermione replied vehemently. He looked at her, shocked. "I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. I care about you, a lot, but I'm not in love with you anymore…a year changed a lot."

"Did you fall in love with Lucius?" Harry sneered. "Replaced me?" Hermione looked at him steadily, and his eyes widened. "Oh my god, you did!"

"He put me under thrall." Hermione explained patiently. "It's not a real feeling, but it doesn't make it any less strong."

"He made you a thrall?" Harry said. "Isn't that a bit pointless?"

"You know about thralls, right Harry?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.

"We were taught them in sixth year." Harry said.

"So what happens if the thrall's master abandons them, cuts them off?"

"They fade and die."

"Yeah, they do. And that's what Lucius did. And I'm very lucky I lived through that, Harry, but it changes you, stops you trusting any sort of feeling like that at all. That's why I'm not in love with you anymore, Harry, because I don't even know if I can love anymore." She was being melodramatic now, she knew, but she wanted to well and truly put Harry off.

"So you don't love Charlie." Harry said. Hermione shook her head. "So why did you marry him?"

"Because he can keep me safe." Hermione said. "Come on, I have to go inside." She turned and headed in, and after a moment, Harry followed.

"Oh, have you got everything?" Inside, Molly was fussing around the kitchen. "I can't believe you're leaving so soon!"

"I'd be leaving today anyway, mum, you know that." Charlie said tiredly, glancing at Hermione. She sent him an amused glance and he hid a smile.

"Yes, but Hermione! She's only been back a few hours and she's leaving again. What about her parents?" Hermione frowned, that was a point.

"Tell them I'm safe, but I can't see or speak to them." She said. "Tell them in person, don't write to them. It'll be too noticable."

"I'll do it." Harry said. "I'll phone them." Hermione nodded.

"Send them my love." He nodded.

"Will do."

"Hermione." Charlie said softly. "Ready?" Hermione nodded, and quickly hugged everyone one last time. Then, on three, she laid her hand against the plastic water bottle portkey and was tugged away from the Burrow.

&

They appeared on a large plateau around halfway up a mountain. When Hermione looked down at she could see was cloud.

"We're high up." She commented, holding her cloak tighter around her.

"Yep." Charlie grinned, and she could already see the excitement in his eyes. "Let's go check in, see what's to do." Hermione nodded, and let him lead her to a tent off to the side, flying a very small, very subtle Ministry banner.

They were greeted outside by a tall, sunburnt man with very little hair and a rather rough, 'I haven't seen civilisation in over two years' appearance.

"Hermione, this is Joseph Landerthal, call him Joe."

"Charlie." Joe grinned, and the pair hugged. Joe looked to Hermione and frowned. "Charlie, we said no guests."

"Joe, meet my wife, Hermione." Hermione held out her hand to shake only to realise that Joe had no right hand. She quickly swapped, blushing. Joe laughed as they shook.

"Smooth transition there, little lady." He said. "And congratulations, Charlie never mentioned a fiancee." Hermione shrugged.

"Likes to keep me to himself." She said with a bright smile. Joe smiled back.

"Know anything about dragons?" Joe asked, gesturing for them to come into the tents.

"No practical experience." Hermione said, glancing at Charlie. "So nothing, really."

"I like her Charlie." Joe proclaimed. "Right attitude to dragon studies. I imagine you've been coaching her."

"You only pretend to be a know-it-all about dragons once around Charlie." Hermione said with a smile, taking Charlie's hand. "And after that you let him have the floor." Charlie grinned, kissing her on the side of the head. Hermione smiled.

As far as married couples go, she thought they were pulling this off quite well.

"Down to business." Joe said, settling himself in a chair and gesturing for them to do the same. "Charlie, your tent is at the edge of the encampment, as you like it." He addressed Hermione. "Hope you're not afraid of heights." He smiled. "The dragons are due to come in in two days, but you know what they're like. There's also evidence of some smaller dragons, so we'll see how that pans out. We've got the usual crew, Paul and Mary, Diane, Susie, Jack, Daniel and Luke, plus us, of course. Susie, Jack and Luke arrive tomorrow, Paul, Mary and Diane are already here, and Daniel is tied up at the Ministry so we can't get hold of him until next week."

"He'll miss the arrival." Charlie commented. "That's his favourite part."

"And we're gonna hear about it." Joe said darkly.

"What kind of dragons have we got?" Charlie asked, ignoring Joe's comment. "This isn't within any of the usual nesting or resting grounds."

"We don't know, Charlie." Joe said. Charlie's eyebrows skyrocketed. "It's a funny thing, no-one's seen these dragons before, and this is the only place in the world that they hang out. We're here to watch and record as subtly as humanly possible, we have no idea about the temperaments or anything else of these dragons." Joe glanced at Hermione. "This might not have been the ideal first dragon trip to take her on." Charlie shrugged.

"She's smart. And I trust her." Joe nodded.

"Then that's enough. Right, I'll let you go get unpacked, and you can explain all the protocols to her while you sort yourself out." They all stood, and Joe beamed at Hermione. "Welcome to the team."


	10. Chapter 9

Enjoy.

&

The first few days were hectic on the encampment, especially when the dragons didn't turn up as expected. Charlie merely said it was fortunate, as it gave him more of a chance to introduce Hermione to his world, teaching her everything from the way to approach a dragon to how to heal burns and other injuries after a hasty retreat. The most important lesson, he continued to stress, was to remember that dragons were natural-born legilimens, though they never interacted with humans. What that meant was that whatever one dragon could see, they could all see, meaning that sneaking up on a dragon was not only spectacularly stupid but also absolutely pointless.

Hermione nodded and asked intelligent questions but she couldn't help feeling out of her depth. And this whole married thing was too surreal to even consider. Half the time she couldn't even believe it, and there was nothing more than a ring to support it. They slept in different beds, didn't exchange customary endearments (except when he called her a harpy, though that hardly counted), and their relationship remained purely platonic. It was weird. But what was weirder was when they were forced to act married, like when the other arrived, it didn't seem as strange. A complex Hermione assumed was inherited with the ring.

But then the dragons arrived and she forgot all about it.

The dragons arrived just as the sun was rising, tinging the dark world grey with its first tentative rays. Charlie dragged Hermione out of bed without a word and she followed, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Outside it was cold, and she shivered in her pyjamas. Charlie wordlessly wrapped a cloak around her.

"Watch." He whispered. At first Hermione couldn't see anything, and then suddenly the air was filled with the noise of bugling and then there they were. There weren't that many of them, but they were all so big that they filled the skies. They were all colours of the rainbows and some colours Hermione hadn't even known existed. They were alighting all up and down the mountain, clinging with giant talons to crevices in the rock and calling out to the others.

"Oh my god." Hermione whispered. "They're amazing."

"Shh." Charlie replied, eyes on the dragons, already counting and cataloging fiercely. Hermione tried to focus, but her mind was whirling, and she suddenly realised the dragons were in her head. She put up the strongest barriers she could and they were all simply knocked down. So Hermione, breathing a prayer, opened her mind.

The things she could see.

It was all a spinning blur of images, of fields and lakes and forests, all the places they had been. Then she felt the vertigo of flying and she wavered, and far away she heard Charlie talking to her, felt him lowering her to ground. Flying with the dragons she listened to their calls back and forth, unable to make out their conversation but somehow understanding all the same, yet incapable of putting it into words. It was about eggs and how long it would take before the youngsters were old enough to start learning to fly, and the new humans on the nursery mountain. Hermione started when she realised the dragons were talking about them, but then she was back into the eddying current, unable to control it.

And suddenly it was gone, and her mind was flung into pitch black. She hung suspended in the darkness, empty quietness filling her brain. She struggled to catch her breath, and just as she did, she saw her.

She was a great black dragon, suspended in front of her. Bigger than all the others, the dragon watched her from swirling eyes that reflected starscapes in the deepest night sky. Her scales were black, but shimmered pink and silver.

I am the Matriarch. The dragon said, her voice booming and deafening. Hermione didn't answer, her ears ringing. Why are you here? 

We want to study you. Hermione said tentatively, her voice quiet in the gaping darkness. We're curious. 

Study? Do you mean learn the secrets of Dragon Lore? The Matriarch boomed.

No. I mean yes. I mean," Hermione paused, trying to collect her thoughts. We've never seen you before, we want to know who you are, where you're from. That kind of thing. 

Not the deep magic. The Matriarch said, sounding mollified.

I don't believe we could understand it anyway. Hermione said. Animal magic was usually linked to the nature of the brain of the animal in question, making it anatomically impossible for different animals to perform animal magic from a different creature. The dragon laughed, a great huffing sound like strong gusts of wind.

Dragons are not kneazles, we can understand your magic, and you can understand ours. The Matriarch corrected. Hermione stared.

We could learn your magic? She asked incredulously.

We choose not to teach. the dragon sniffed, Too many of your race would use it for control, and that is not its' purpose. the Matriarch tilted her head. You I may consider. And with that, Hermione dropped out of the blackness back into her body, and she found herself lying on her bed, Charlie sitting by her side.

"Charlie?" She asked, confused, trying to sit up. He pushed her back down.

"Slowly, Hermione. You collapsed at the site, when the dragons arrived. Do you remember?" Hermione nodded slowly, trying to remember and achieving a crashing headache for her trouble.

"They were in my head." She said quietly. "So many dragons, I couldn't keep them out. So many thoughts and memories and then…" Hermione closed her eyes, willing the headache to fade, it made it hard to think. "Then She was there, and She made the others go."

"Who's She?" Charlie asked, taking Hermione's hand.

"The Matriarch." Hermione said quietly, Charlie frowned.

"Which one is the Matriarch? They're usually very easy to identify."

"She's huge and black, with silver and pink in her scales. She has eyes that swirl with the night sky." Hermione said, her voice becoming dreamy as she slowly lost consciousness again.

"Hermione, there wasn't a dragon like that." Charlie said, completely bewildered.

"Charlie!" Diane burst into the tent. "You have to see this. The Matriarch just arrived, and she's utterly amazing." Charlie glanced at Hermione, then followed Diane outside. There, just as Hermione had described, was the Matriarch, sitting in the middle of the circle of tents, watching Charlie and Diane emerge from the tent.

"God." Charlie gasped, pushing Diane behind him. The dragon simply looked at him, the starscape eyes looking from him to Diane, and then past her to the tent. Then she flapped her wings and took off, the wind produced knocking over all the tents except the one behind Charlie and Diane.

"Why didn't you say she was that close?" Charlie demanded furiously to Diane.

"Because she wasn't." Diane retorted. "Or I never would have pulled you out, I would have told you to leave through the back." She paused. "How's the little wife?"

"She's fine." Charlie retorted, protective in response to Diane's venemous enquiry. "Thank you." He turned and headed back inside, where he found Hermione sleeping peacefully.

"What have you been doing?" He asked her sleeping form, settling into the chair beside her and waiting for her to wake up.

&

She dreamt of dragons, flying around her in a circle so quickly they were blurs, and through the blur she could see Lucius, watching her and behind him Draco. On the other side of her was Charlie, watching her carefully. When she looked down she could see her stomach swollen with pregnancy, and the baby kicked. Hermione frowned, and when she looked up everything was gone and she was suspended in darkness, and then she saw the eyes of the Matriarch, swirling stars that surrounded her until she was falling through space. She landed with a thump in her own bed and she jerked, waking up.

Her hand went immediately to her stomach and found it as flat as it had been before, only now she had a feeling that a pregnancy spell would be in order, if only to reassure herself that the dream was just that, a dream.

But between everything that had happened, especially the incident with the dragons, she wasn't so sure.

She slipped from her bed, noting that outside it was quite dark: she must have slept all day. In the main area of the tent Charlie was crashed on the couch, he must have been waiting for her. She smiled at him as she walked past, heading for the toilet. She locked the door behind her and did the pregnancy charm that would give her her answer, and stared at the result, not really surprised.

She was pregnant, and a fair way on too. Too far on, in fact, for it not to be showing. Hermione was utterly confused. Seven months pregnant. So where the hell was her bump? How the hell was she going to tell Charlie? Hermione's mind was whirling, and not because there were dragons in it. She headed outside for some fresh air, and saw the Matriarch on the ledge above the camping plateau, illuminated by the torches scattered around the camping plateau.

So you know. The Matriarch said.

How is it I'm that pregnant and don't know? Hermione demanded. I should be showing. A lot. 

The baby is upside down, with it's back to your spine. It's essentially standing on your lower internal organs, which is why there's no bump. When it comes time to give birth it will right itself. Hermione sat down, looking at the ground. The child is not its father. 

That was a point. Seven months ago she slept with both father and son. Which one was her baby's father?

The baby's father is not the issue. The baby and you are the only two that will be affected, and the man who protects you will be the baby's father, regardless of blood. The Matriarch reprimanded. Hermione sighed. The father did make a difference. If it was Lucius', she was tempted to drown it. If it was Draco's…that was different, not that there was anything she could do about it.

The baby is not the father. 

"Hermione?" Charlie emerged from the tent and rushed to her side when he saw her sitting on the crash in the middle of the encampment. "Are you alright? What are you doing?"

"Talking to the Matriarch." Hermione replied, pointing up at the ledge where the giant dragon sat. Charlie jumped when he saw her.

"Merlin." He swore. "Hermione, she isn't safe, she's a dragon."

"I know." Hermione said, her voice distant. "But she won't hurt me."

"Yeah. We talked about this, Hermione." Charlie said, hauling her to her feet irritably and dragging her towards the tent. "They will hurt you, no matter how docile they initially seem."

"Docile?" Hermione shook her head. "If you think I believe the Matriarch is docile, you've got me way wrong." Charlie pulled her inside and pushed her down onto the couch.

"So what the bleeding hell were you doing out there?" Charlie demanded, angry. "She would kill you as soon as look at you!"

"But she won't!" Hermione retorted, "I know she won't."

"Oh yeah?" Charlie challenged. "How?"

"She told me." Hermione replied. Charlie looked at her, skeptical. Hermione sighed. "I'm an legilimens, Charlie. I can hear them talking. At first to each other, but its been filtered out loads."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Charlie asked, confused. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I'm a legilimens, Charlie, I've told you. I can hear the dragons talking to each other, because that's how they communicate. When they first arrived I heard them all, which is why I passed out: total brain overload. But the Matriarch filtered it out, so now I can only speak to her and she can speak to me. That's how I know she won't hurt me."

"So what were you two talking about when I came out?" Charlie tested, folding his arms across his chest. Hermione bit her lip and looked down. This was not how she wanted him to find out. She wanted to broach the subject slowly, give him a chance to acclimatise to the idea. But she had a feeling he wasn't going to let this go. And he did ask.

"I'm pregnant, Charlie." She said quietly. Charlie stared. "From when I was at the Manor."

"That bastard." Charlie hissed. "That scum-sucking, black-hearted bastard!"

"Yeah. Well." Hermione shrugged. "That's what we were talking about, and the Matriarch was actually telling me that the father didn't matter, since the baby wasn't connected to him in any other way but genetics. That you'd be the baby's father."

"The father doesn't matter? Don't you mean Lucius?" Charlie asked, questionning how she didn't refer to the baby's paternal father as Lucius.

"Yeah." Hermione said vaguely. Charlie sighed, sitting down next to her on the couch.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"You mean with the fact that I've been pregnant for the last seven months and didn't know, so now I'm going to give birth to a baby with a father I despised on a dragon reserve? Sure I'm okay." She answered sarcastically. Charlie pulled her into a one armed hug.

"Well if you need anything…"

"I need you to trust me." Hermione said flatly. "I'm not trying to commit suicide, strangely enough. If I didn't know she wouldn't hurt me, I wouldn't be sitting there like a ready-meal." Charlie looked slightly bewildered by the muggle reference and Hermione clarified. "I wouldn't be sitting there waiting for her to eat me if I didn't know she wouldn't." He nodded.

"I'm sorry, and I guess I know that. It's just when I saw you I just panicked. Especially when I saw her. I don't want you getting hurt." Hermione smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thanks, Charlie. I appreciate it." She smiled, then bounced off the couch. "I'm gonna go to bed, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He nodded, watching her head off to bed before tilting his head back against the backrest of the couch.

She had scared the living daylights out of him. Firstly when he woke up and she was gone, then when he saw the dragon sitting there, as bold as you please. Sudden images of her being eaten or at the very least maimed or burned flashed through his head and he panicked, hence his little outburst. Usually he was a very calm person, you had to be around so many dangerous animals that picked up on emotions. But Hermione…Hermione had the ability to wind him up and watch him spin off.

Hell, even the twins couldn't do that.

&

Hermione hadn't admitted it to anyone, but she was having trouble coming to terms with her pregnancy. First off, she couldn't actually see it. There was nothing to indicate that she was in fact seven months pregnant and that in two months give or take a few days she would be a mother. Secondly, she didn't know who the father was, and as much as the Matriarch said it didn't actually matter, to Hermione it did. A lot.

Was the baby Lucius'? Conceived in the process of making it's mother a thrall, Lucius' most devoted servant? Or was it Draco's, conceived in the process of him saving her life?

It did matter. A lot.

And there was the whole business of being here. While Hermione was loving every second; dragons were thousands of times more fascinating than she had imagined and she was learning new things every day, it wasn't necessarily the best place for a birth.

The lack of an OBGYN and medical facilities was what had Hermione worried, she'd heard all the horror stories.

She wasn't sure how Charlie felt about the baby, either. She was his wife and chances were the baby wouldn't look anything like him. With any luck it would look like her and thus despel any suspicion, but if it looked like its father, whether Lucius or Draco, there might be problems. She could call it a throwback, to her mother perhaps, lie and say her mother was very pale. But chances were it'd be a weak lie. Hermione wanted to talk about it but couldn't make herself bring it up: it wasn't exactly something you talked about over dinner. And in the meantime, time passed.

She forced herself to face it nearly a month after she'd found out about it, reasoning that at eight months it was possible the baby could come early and that she had to be prepared. And that meant not only broaching the subject with Charlie but facing up to it herself. She'd been avoiding even thinking about it as possible, and without a giant belly to remind her constantly she had been able to forget to some extent. But, she told herself sternly, in three or four weeks the baby would be there and then she couldn't forget it even if she wanted to. May as well get used to that concept now.

"Charlie?" Hermione stood in the doorway to the living room, looking on as Charlie lay stretched out on the couch, reading. His leg had been quite badly burnt that morning so he'd had the rest of the day off while the magic healed it back to normal.

He was already bored stupid, Hermione knew. She recognised the signs, they were the same ones she saw in Ron.

"Yeah?" He tossed the book aside and sat up, looking at her. She'd been fairly absent recently, Charlie mused, looking at her. She didn't look that great either: pale with dark circles under her eyes. Maybe they'd been working her too hard. But she'd never complained.

"We need to talk." She said, coming hesitantly to sit down next to him, beside his wrapped up leg. He frowned.

"What about?" He asked. Hermione smiled a little.

"The baby." Charlie felt guilty, he'd forgotten entirely about it. She never mentioned it, and there wasn't a physical sign of her pregnancy due to the baby's position. She smiled when she saw how he looked away and reached for his hand. "It's alright, Charlie. I've spent the last month between forgetting and trying to. But a fact's a fact, and we need to face it." Charlie snorted gently.

"You have such a way with words." He muttered. She nodded with a shrug.

"I know." There was a long pause and Charlie shifted awkwardly. "What are we going to do?" She asked finally in a tiny voice. Charlie looked at her and immediately pulled her onto his lap and into a tight hug, recognising for what might have been the first time ever fear in her eyes. "I don't know what to do." She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, close to tears. Charlie kissed the crown of her head and stroked her hair. He was thinking hard. Now that she brought it up, there was the complication of the birth itself, though magic could make it safer and cleaner than it would be in the Muggle world. But still. She was alone on a mountain with no one but her best friend's brother and a few people she met a month ago. And a lot of dragons that made her pass out whenever they spoke to her at once.

It had never occurred to him to wonder if she was lonely up here, but he realised she must be.

"I'm not." She said quietly. He looked down at her and met her gaze. "Lonely. I'm not. I've got more company here then I did at the Manor, plus you're here so I have someone I know up here."

"You read my mind?" He asked, a little bit suspicious. He had been, since he had found out she was a legimens. She shook her head.

"It was a loud thought. I don't have to be looking at your mind to hear it." He nodded. He had a working knowledge of what legimency and occlumency was, but he wasn't any good at it. He preferred to keep things in the open: telepathy seemed too secret, too sneaky. He wasn't surprised that Lucius could do it.

"We're not allowed to leave the mountain." Charlie mused, "Because we might be traced. But up here, we have magic plus Susie's a midwife, among other things."

"She is?" Hermione frowned. "Why is there a midwife on the team?"

"She started out as a midwife, but now she's a specialist on dragon eggs and hatchlings." Hermione nodded in understanding. "So she can take care of you," Charlie continued, "And I'll be here, I'm not leaving you." Hermione smiled and kissed his jaw.

"Thank you." She said quietly, resting her head on his shoulder. "How's the leg?" she asked.

"Alternating between stinging and numb." Charlie answered, shifting her slight weight a little. He was surprised by how little she weighed, she had always looked more substantial than she felt. _And_ she was pregnant. "Hermione?"

"Yeah?" She sounded tired, her voice muffled from his neck.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "You're very light for someone seven months pregnant. For someone at all, actually." Hermione smiled.

"It's a charm." Hermione said. "I'd forgotten all about it since I can't actually feel it."

"What is it?" Charlie asked curiously. "And why would you cast a charm that makes you lighter?" Hermione giggled.

"I'm not really lighter, it just feels that way to anyone who picks me up." She shrugged. "Basically, Ron or Harry, or maybe both I can't remember, used to pick me up a lot in fifth year, usually to annoy me. But they used to whinge about how heavy I was, so I cast a charm to make me seem lighter. It nearly gave them a heart attack the first time they noticed." Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"You mean they noticed?" He asked with a grin. She giggled again.

"I'm quite a lot heavier than I feel." She said. "Lots more probably, thanks to the baby. I don't even want to know how much I weigh, seriously. But anyway, that's why I feel light. I can't believe I forgot about that." Charlie rolled his eyes. After a moment she shifted in his arms again. "I'm still not sure about giving birth on a mountain in a dragon reserve." She said. Charlie looked her in the eye.

"Hermione, it'll be as safe as we can make it." He said reassuringly. "And if you leave the mountain you'll be in more danger. You think the deatheaters won't think to search for Hermione Weasley?" He shook his head. "You're safer up here." She nodded slowly.

"You're probably right." She said eventually. "I hadn't thought about that." He nodded, resting his chin on her head and stroking her hair. "The Matriarch's been teaching me, you know." She said quietly. Charlie paused in stroking her hair.

"What?" Why would a dragon teach a human anything? _What_ would a dragon teach a human?

"The Matriarch. She's been teaching me." Hermione repeated.

"Teaching you what?" Charlie asked, intrigued. In all his study of dragons, he'd heard of maybe two people, including his wife, who actually talked to dragons. He'd heard of none who'd been taught by the creatures.

"Stuff." Hermione shrugged. "Physics of flight, properties that they have…what they can do…why babies hatch backwards and come out of their shell bum first. I didn't know they did that." She lifted her head and met Charlie's astonished gaze. "Do they really do that?" He nodded, speechless. "Weird." She decided. She hadn't moved her arms from his neck and her fingers twisted idly in his long ponytail. "She's teaching me their history too, but it's very long as she wants it to be perfect so it takes us ages." She sighed.

"I can't believe she's teaching you all that." Charlie said, awestruck. "It's unheard of." Hermione smiled.

"I'm special." Charlie laughed.

"Yes, you are." He agreed.


	11. Chapter 10

It's a shorter chapter because it's kind of a package. Enjoy. Istalindar.

&

The baby will come when it's ready and not a minute before. The Matriarch lectured. Hermione resisted the urge to swear at her. This _hurt_.

"Breathe Hermione." Charlie said quietly, stroking a tendril of hair out of her face. She glared.

"You fucking breathe." She retorted.

"Her contractions are coming closer." Susie reported. Hermione groaned as her muscles squeezed hard. "You're doing fine, Hermione." Susie said gently. Hermione sighed as the pain momentarily left her, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back. "The baby is turning itself around, which is why this hurts so much."

"I thought contractions were meant to hurt." Charlie muttered to himself, confused but unwilling to comment.

"These hurt worse than usual." Susie said softly. "I don't know how but the baby is turning itself around without any help from me, so she's got contractions and its stretching her womb as it turns. Hermione half-screamed, half-moaned again, fisting the sheets of the bed so tightly her knuckles went white.

You're doing fine. The Matriarch said. Hermione didn't reply. The baby has nearly righted himself and then it'll be a lot easier and more straightforward. the dragon reported. Hermione barely registered that the Matriarch called the baby a 'him' before her mind was full of pain again and she gritted her teeth, hard.

"You're nearly there Hermione." Susie said. "The baby's nearly straight. I think it'll be easier then." Hermione screamed with another contraction, and Charlie grabbed her shoulders.

"Hermione, you can do this." He said harshly. "You're so close." Her eyes opened briefly and then they closed again in agony.

"Push, Hermione." Susie urged. "Push!" Hermione pushed, again and again until pain wracked her entire body worse than cruciatus and suddenly she relaxed.

"He's beautiful." Susie cooed. Hermione lay there, trying to catch her breath, swallowing against the harshness of her throat. After a second she looked up and saw Charlie standing over her, a concerned look on his face and a bundle in his arms. She held out her arms.

"Charlie?" Her voice was rough. Charlie smiled and gently laid the screaming baby boy in her arms.

He looked like a Malfoy.

Hermione passed out.

&

Babies were a nightmare. A pain in the arse. They were worse than… Hermione couldn't think of anything worse. They cried, they were demanding, they made a huge mess, they pooped, they vomited and they drooled. And they _screamed_.

"I got it." Hermione mumbled to no one in particular, rolling out of bed. But by the time she had reached the baby's room (she hadn't even named it yet), Charlie had beaten her to it. He was wearing sweats, and had the baby swaddled in blankets and was bouncing it gently, murmuring to it. Hermione stood and watched, amazed as the little boy slowly fell back asleep.

Charlie was so much better at this than she was. Whenever she got near the baby it just seemed to scream louder. It hated her, Hermione was sure. But with Charlie, just a few words or a caress could make the baby shut up. Hermione had never been good with babies, but this one took the piss.

And the fact that it was hers, that she had sweated and strained to bring the little brat into the world, made it all the more bitter.

Hermione turned and left, leaving to Charlie to the fatherhood he was so obviously born to. Charlie turned, sensing a presence, but there was nothing.

&

"Hermione." Hermione looked up from where she was copying up the rough notes she'd made during the day. The baby was asleep, thank heaven, so she could have some peace. Well, relatively, anyway.

"Yep?" she smiled.

"We need to talk." Charlie said seriously, taking a chair and twisting it backwards so he rested the arm on the backrest, straddling the seat. She frowned.

"What about?" Charlie's eyebrows shot up.

"Possibly the baby? Who you haven't even named yet?" He asked snidely. Hermione looked away. "That's the thing, Hermione. You can't just look away and hope he disappears." Hermione didn't answer. "Hermione."

"Look, I'm sorry I'm not your mother." Hermione said quietly. "Believe me when I say I have tried to care, I've tried to love it. But I just don't. It's a nuisance and it-"

"If you stop seeing it as an object and start seeing it as a person you might have more luck." Charlie commented. Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know, Charlie." She said softly. "I'm not a natural mother. If I try and comfort it – him," she corrected at Charlie's look, "He just cries harder. He doesn't want me any more than I want him."

"You're wrong." Charlie said. "He wants his mother desperately. But he doesn't understand why you don't want him. That's why he cries."

"Oh, come on Charlie." Hermione scoffed. "He's a baby, he doesn't know anything except that he's tired or hungry or that he's just shit his pants, _again_."

"He's a baby, Hermione. What do you expect?" Charlie demanded, annoyed. "They don't pop out toilet trained and able to feed themselves."

"They don't 'pop' out at all." Hermione muttered.

"Look." Charlie said. "I want you to do something for me. And it doesn't involve any proximity to the baby, I promise. But you have to do this." Hermione looked at him cautiously.

"What?"

"I want you to think about what happened to you. Properly. Force yourself to remember that because I think that's why you can't connect with the baby."

"It couldn't be I'm not a baby person?" Hermione snapped irritably.

"No." Charlie said flatly. "It's because you're letting that year taint your future."

"It wasn't all marshmallows and ice cream, Charlie." Hermione retorted. "He…" she trailed off, unable to speak.

"And that's what I'm talking about." Charlie said quietly. "You can't think about it, can't say it. But that doesn't make it any less there, doesn't mean it didn't happen. And it's going to affect you until you work through it. And it'll make you a victim."

"It will not." Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "It'll teach me not to go home by myself but that's it."

"Don't lie to me." Charlie said. "I know you-"

"No you don't!" Hermione shouted suddenly. "You may be my husband but you don't know me at all! Before we got married how many proper conversations had we actually had? Maybe two? Possibly? Just because I wear your ring and I have your name does not mean you know me at all!" Charlie stared at her and she immediately felt terrible. "Charlie, I'm sorry. I-"

"It's the truth, Hermione, I know it as much as you do." Charlie said, so quietly she barely heard him. "But as much as all that, I think you need this. I think your son needs this." He turned and left, and Hermione was left staring at her notes, which suddenly didn't seem to make any sense.

Nothing did, anymore.

He's right. The Matriarch added her voice. This has gone on too long. 

I didn't ask your opinion. Hermione retorted.

And I did not ask yours. The Matriarch said flatly, her voice suddenly stronger, giving Hermione a headache. Leave a note, then come out to me. Hermione, knowing her headache would only get worse if she didn't do as she was told, scribbled a note on parchment, pulled on her warm jacket and her cloak over that, and stepped outside into the cold night.

&

Charlie found the note in the morning, when he bouncing the baby gently after he'd fed him. He had half a mind to name the baby himself seeing as Hermione blatantly wanted nothing to do with it.

I'm going out. To do as you asked, and think. I don't know how long it'll take, the Matriarch will care for me. I'm sorry for what I said, you do know me well.

Hermione 

He sighed, bouncing the baby. Of all the moments to do as she's told. He sighed again, looking at the baby that so clearly resembled his father: the grey eyes, the pale hair. But this baby was quick to smile and gurgle and laugh. Charlie winked at him and the baby obligingly squealed and gurgled, before promptly burping milk everywhere. Charlie rolled his eyes and reached for his wand.

Outside and up several plateaus from the living area, Hermione sat on a wide ledge, her legs stretched in front of her and not exceeding the edge. Her back was to the mountain, her face upturned to the sky, her eyes shut. She was remembering, under the Matriarch's careful guidance, remembering all the terrible things, but remembering the good things too. Her relationship with Lucius she could only view with a sceptical eye, even before he turned her into a witless devotee, but with Draco…

The more she remembered, the more she felt for the son of her Master, the boy who set aside every petty school-kid grudge and grumble to reach inside her mind, search for her and then bring her back, risking his own sanity in the process. She could remember every second he was in her mind, and then every second after he withdrew and slowly brought her out with kisses and touch and eventually, sex, the ultimate contact, the ultimate link. The memory was so intense she could almost feel it, and then, suddenly, she did.

The child lodging in her belly.

The realisation made her gasp, arching off the rock behind her, her mouth open and her eyes shut. She could see the baby growing, upside down and back to front in her stomach, hiding from her, hiding from the terrible pain it could feel in its mother's mind, the terrible ache of shame and regret and fear and anger. It spent nine months listening to her, watching her dreams and hearing her wail of distress, locked in her womb, unable to escape or block out the noises. And then it was free, but such pain, turning and stretching and the space was too small, the space was too-

Nothing.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering open. It was evening, the sun was setting. She'd been out here at least an entire day, remembering the pain, physical from Madeleine, then emotional from Lucius, then the freedom given to her by Draco. And then the pain and the fear and the confusion of her baby boy, the little boy who had suffered her despair without understanding why.

A sudden thought struck her: the baby had read her mind while in her womb, had seen her thoughts. What if it could still do so now? The abuse she had hurled at him in her mind, cursing it for everything she felt, for the shame Lucius had made her feel, the anger, the pain.

Hermione pushed herself to her feet and swayed a little.

Careful. The Matriarch warned. You have been in deep intense memories for many hours. You may be unsteady on your feet and this would be a terrible fall. Hermione nodded, picking her way slowly down the mountain. She needed to get down, needed to get to Charlie, who she had abused and her baby, that boy who had heard everything but not understood. It was no wonder he cried everytime she came near to him, he could hear the vehemence in his thoughts, how unwanted and unloved he was.

How terrible for a little boy.

When the ledge widened, when the descent was not so tricky, Hermione broke into a stumbling run, down and down the mountain onto the camping plateau. She burst into the tent and startled Charlie, who was wandering around the room with the baby, trying to quiet him.

"Give him to me." She demanded, coming to a halt. He took one look at her flustered face and shook his head.

"No."

"Give me my baby!" She cried, stepping forwards, arms out.

"Hermione?" Charlie frowned, looking at her carefully. She felt tears welling in her eyes.

"Please, Charlie." She whispered. "Give him to me." Charlie hesitated, then slowly handed over the baby boy. Hermione took him in her arms and crossed to the couch, sitting down. She closed her eyes.

"Hermione?" Charlie asked immediately. "Are you alright?"

"Shh Charlie." She said quietly. Confused, he did as he was told.

Baby? Hermione quested delicately into the boy lying against her chest. Baby? 

Why do you hate me? The voice was clear in her head, and Hermione nearly burst out crying from the tragedy in it. What did I do? I don't understand! 

I'm so sorry. Hermione whispered, mentally wrapping her arms around the baby. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean it. 

You were so angry. He replied. So scared. 

I'm not anymore. Hermione said softly. I'm blamed everything on you, I'm sorry. 

Do you love me? The child asked. Hermione hesitated for barely a second.

Yes. She answered. Yes, I do. The baby smiled.

&

Charlie was, quite frankly, amazed. When he had suggested that Hermione actually go out and face her demons, he hadn't quite expected it to have this effect. Where before she didn't care at all for the baby, who, she informed him when she opened her eyes, was called Luke, now she hardly seemed to be parted from him. Charlie still spent a lot of time with him as well, with them both, actually, and now when he looked into her eyes they seemed brighter, as though a curtain had been pulled away.

Charlie didn't know how or what or why…but she disappeared for two days and came back looking haggard and flushed and disheveled, demanding her child. Charlie had been worried: he didn't know what she would do to the baby, but then she took him and sat down, closing her eyes, her fingers stroking lightly over the baby's head.

It was strange.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Hermione asked cheerfully, coming out of the baby's room, one clean baby on her shoulder. She dropped a kiss onto Charlie's head, something she'd been doing more often lately, and not only when they were in public, and poured herself a cup of tea from the teapot on the table.

"Nothing much." Charlie answered, turning to watch her and Luke.

Luke was now about three months old. He was his father through and through though, grey-blue eyes, pale skin, pale hair. He had his mother's affinity for laughter though, and smiling. He always seemed to be smiling, especially since Hermione had come back from her soujourn up the mountain. She didn't talk about it much, merely said that he was right and left it at that.

Charlie could live with that, especially now that he had the Hermione he remembered, from before the year at the Manor, back. She was quick so smile and laugh, talking about everything from dragons to cloud shapes throughout the day. She was bright and cheerful and willing and Charlie couldn't actually help himself.

He was falling in love with her.

He didn't know what it was, and he was well aware of the fact that a) she was only newly nineteen and b) she was his brother's best friend. And somehow, reminding himself that he was _married_ to the girl, that actually, it was only right for him to be in love with her, didn't really help. Not much.

"Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie Charlie!" Hermione burst into the tent later that day, making him jump in his chair. He'd been working on transcribing his notes but had fallen into yet another daydream about her. "Come see, you have to see this!" Luke was laughing happily, gurgling and drooling on her shoulder, a piece of her hair in his fist, but Hermione didn't care.

"What?" Charlie asked laughing as she grabbed her hand and pulled him from the tent.

"Susie found eggs, Charlie! And they're hatching!"

"What?" Charlie asked, dumbfounded. Never had he known dragons to lay a clutch so close to humans.

"Come on!" Hermione insisted, releasing his hand and running ahead, Luke bobbing along against her shoulder, shrieking with giggles. Charlie caught her up in an instant.

"You'll make Luke sick running about like that." He warned.

"Rubbish." She grinned. "He'll tell me if he's feeling ill, won't you darling?" She grinned, tapping Luke on the nose. "It's up here. Come on." She led the way more slowly up a narrow path, then ducked behind a straggly bush to reveal a huge sandy cave. It was lit from above by some cracks in the rock that the early spring sunlight let through, and Charlie stared in amazement.

There were three eggs, beautiful and smooth, a green, a blue and a red. He'd never seen eggs like that before. Curled around them was the mother, who lay peacefully, one eye open one shut, watching them carefully but not with hostility.

"Careful, Hermione." He warned quickly. "Nesting dragons are-" Hermione smiled and set Luke down, and he immediately crawled into the curve of the dragons tail, being very careful not to touch the eggs. "Luke, get back here." Charlie said very quietly, trying not to upset the dragon.

"You don't understand." Hermione said with a smile, stepping back and taking Charlie's hand. "It's an agreement. She trusts her eggs with us because I trust her with our little boy."

"Our?" Charlie asked, stunned. She smiled beatifically up at him.

"Of course our." She said gently. "You'll be the only father he'll know. Just because you didn't create him doesn't make you any less his father." He smiled, unable to think of anything to say. He felt so light inside, it was such a ridiculous cliché. He didn't think anything could break his mood. He was still worried about Luke though. "Relax, Charlie." She said quietly.

"Why are we here?" he asked quietly. "What are we waiting for?"

"They're nearly ready." Hermione said. "And Luke needs to be here."

"They're going to hatch? Hermione do you know what hatchlings do when they hatch? They eat. Everything. Anything."

"They won't eat him. He's been talking to them for days. Well, one of them." Hermione smiled. "You really think I'd put him in danger?" Charlie fell silent, and she smiled, squeezing his hand.

The dragon snorted and Hermione and Charlie watched as Luke backed up, as far as he could away from the eggs, sitting in the curve of the dragons tail. There was a loud crack, then two more, and then the cave was echoing with the sound. When it died, Hermione and Charlie watched the hatchings struggle from their shells, bum-first.

"Why do they do that?" Charlie whispered. Hermione shook her head with a secretive smile. They watched as the three hatchlings blinked and fell over each other, and the green one struggled over to where Luke sat and sniffed him, snorting a little cloud of smoke. Luke giggled and blew a raspberry, petting the dragon on the head. When the red and the blue came to investigate, the green hatchling snapped at them, flapping still-damp wings at them and growling, the noise closer to a purr then the echoing roar occasionally heard by its adult counterparts.

"Perfect." Hermione breathed. "It couldn't be more perfect."

&


	12. Chapter 11

Do you still like it? Review people! Enjoy, Istalindar

&

Six years later.

&

"We have visitors." Charlie announced, striding into the tent. Hermione frowned and stood.

"What do you mean?"

"Where's Luke and Nassa?" Charlie demanded, not answering her question.

"Out." Hermione said quickly. "Nassa's practising flying so Luke's at the peak with Cartane. Charlie-"

"Draco Malfoy is here." Charlie said. "An envoy from the Ministry. He's paid his way into this information and he's here to oversee."

"For how long?" Hermione asked worriedly. Charlie shrugged.

"Until he gets bored and goes home." He sighed. "I don't know. What are we going to do about you?" Hermione shrugged.

"I'll avoid him as much as I can." She answered simply. Charlie pulled her into a swift hug then drew back so he could kiss her. "Be safe, alright?" She nodded.

"I'll get Luke from the peak, he probably shouldn't be running around." Hermione said. Charlie frowned.

"You can't keep him in here all the time Malfoy's here, Hermione. He'll only cut his way out again." She sighed and nodded, remembering the last time they'd grounded him: he'd simply sliced the tent fabric in his room and snuck out.

"Then I'll go up and warn him." She hesitated. "Are we going to be safe here?" She asked. Charlie nodded.

"You know I won't let him touch you." He promised, brushing a short curl from her face. She nodded, and he kissed her once more. "Go warn Charlie." She nodded, and ducked out of the tent, heading quickly up the mountain side.

Six years on the mountain had changed her. Her hair was cut to a mop of curls to keep it out of the way and she was tanned and lean, a lot fitter than she used to be, due to all the running around, especially when Luke got old enough to walk, which was when he started causing trouble. Nassa, the green dragon who had claimed him at birth, rarely left his side and the two were inseparable. The green dragon was already huge, though still not full grown. She slept either with the other dragons or, when the whim took her, behind Luke's room in the tent.

Luke had grown up and with every day that passed he looked more like Draco…pale shining hair, blue-grey eyes, pale skin, pointy features. But he had his mother's intelligence, Hermione liked to point out. And Luke was, as he had always been, very quick to laugh and smile.

"Luke." Hermione reached the small ten-foot diameter plateau at the peak of the mountain. Her son looked up.

"Mum." He grinned. "Nassa's getting brilliant." Hermione smiled, sitting beside her son and watching the dragon that she'd near-enough adopted as her daughter dip and weave, then struggle up. Her wing strength wasn't perfect yet: so while agile, her stamina wasn't quite up to the other dragons yet. Nassa's brother and sister, Nara and Kem, were leaps ahead of her, so Nassa worked especially hard, but often had trouble splitting her time equally between her flying and the boy she had chosen as a companion. "What's wrong?" Luke, perceptive as always, picked up on the turmoil of his mother's thoughts and reached for her hand.

"Draco Malfoy is here." Hermione said. The name Malfoy brought a barrage of emotion into Luke's mind, and he recoiled and cried out. Hermione grabbed him and hugged him to her, projecting calm, protective warmth until his fear faded. Nassa bugled and struggled up to land clumsily on the plateau, calling plaintively to Luke, who raised his head and reached a hand out towards the dragon.

"I'm alright, Nassa." He replied quietly. She whistled softly, and Hermione smiled, despite the ache in her gut. The emotion Luke had just been baraged from was from when she had carried him, and she was still so wrapped up, subconsciously if not consciously, if the nightmare that had been Malfoy Manor. It rarely surfaced now in Luke, for which Hermione was grateful, but every so often, something would set it off.

Now, when Hermione thought about how much she loved him, she couldn't even understand how she had felt back then.

"What are we going to do?" Luke asked. Hermione smiled, looking out over the cloud that blanketed the forest beneath them.

"We're going to ride it out." Hermione said. "But I'd like you and Nassa to stay away from him."

"He's an evil man." Luke said with certainty. Hermione shook her head and gently turned Luke's face to look at her.

"His father, Lucius, was an evil man." Hermione corrected, keeping a tight hold on Luke's mind when the dark torrent threatened to flood through again. "Draco Malfoy, at least when I knew him, was prepared to sacrifice everything to help a girl in trouble. He was a good man then, and I don't doubt he still has it in him now. But I don't want to risk it. I don't want to risk you, my darling." Luke nodded with a smile.

"Okay." He said. "Does that mean I can stay up here all day and watch Nassa practise?" he asked excitedly. Hermione laughed.

"With your books." She compromised. "A chapter from three different books a day."

"But that's _loads_." Luke whinged. "The books are huge." Hermione smiled and patted his cornsilk hair.

"But are they interesting?" She questioned. He nodded.

"Sometimes." She grinned.

"Books hold-"

"The secret to the universe, yeah I know." Luke rolled his eyes with typical six-year-old assurance. "I'll be fine mum. And I'll avoid him." Hermione nodded with a smile.

"That's my boy." She ginned. "Hug?" He nodded, hugging her tightly. She felt him stiffen slightly.

Mum? He's here. With Daddy. Hermione immediately leapt to her feet, pushing Luke behind her.

"And this is the peak plateau." Joe was saying, gesturing. No one was listening. Draco had his gaze fixed on Hermione, and Charlie was watching Draco.

"Hello, Hermione." Draco said quietly, breaking into Joe's speech. The man finally realised something was going on and paused.

"So you all know each other then?" Joe asked curiously. "How?"

"Long story." Hermione said quickly.

Cartane? She reached out.

Here. There was a rush of wind and a large purple dragon, Cartane, Nassa's mother, appeared at the end of the plateau. Luke, to me please. Luke dashed from Hermione to Cartane, and Nassa darted around, whistling anxiously. Cartane flapped her wings, stirring up dust as she alighted from the peak and soared away, Luke secure in one of her feet. The four humans on the peak didn't move.

"A Weasley, huh?" Draco asked eventually, his eyes darting from where Luke had run to the dragon and back to Hermione. "There's a shocker." Hermione shrugged.

"I'm enjoying it."

"Marital bliss your thing, is it?" Draco asked with a sneer. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"How about dragons, Draco." She said with a smile. "Have you ever met a Matriarch before?"

"You can't meet a dragon, Hermione." Draco rolled his eyes. "They can't communicate with humans."

"Learnt everything you know from a book, Draco?" Hermione asked scornfully. "Ever met a dragon?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Not everyone lives on a dragon reserve, Hermione." He replied. "No, I've not met a dragon, as you put it. But I was sent out here because I know more about dragons then anyone else." Hermione laughed.

'Draco, if you've not met a dragon, you don't know anything." She turned to Joe with a smile. "Shall we head down?" Joe nodded, feeling awkward with all the tension. Something was going on, he just didn't know what.

&

Joe called for a group dinner that night, so they all ate around a long table in a tent specially set up for the occasion. The food was basic but good, and the tent was full of laughter and talk as people discussed dragons and their antics. Draco was bombarded with questions about the outside world, and he regaled them with stories of the antics of the government and the general populace of England, telling the stories with wit and humour. Hermione didn't speak much, concentrating on eating and keeping an eye on Luke, who sat between her and Charlie. Charlie continued to send her concerned looks, and she sent reassuring smiles back, but the exchange carried on and wasn't missed by Draco.

After, when they were heading back to their respective tents, Draco called out.

"Hermione, can I have a word?" Hermione nodded to Charlie, who took Luke's hand and led the tired boy on back to the tent. She turned and waited for Draco to catch her up.

"You're looking well." He said. She smiled.

"Thank you." Draco hesitated, then took a deep breath. Hermione breaced herself.

"Luke your son?" He asked. She nodded. "Hermione-"

"He's your brother." She lied quickly. Draco looked a cross between relieved and disappointed, and Hermione smiled, reaching out to touch his shoulder briefly. "He's a lovely boy."

"Nothing like my father." Draco said. Hermione nodded.

"He's more like you, I think." She said. "How've you been, anyway?" Draco snorted wryly.

"It's been a bit precarious." He said. "Voldemort knew when I took away the thrall, but obviously Lucius didn't. Voldemort was expecting you to try and escape, but I think he was rather shocked when you did. And then when you disappeared off the map, he was even more annoyed. So Lucius is in trouble and I've been keeping out of the way as much as possible."

"Have you been suspected?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded.

"Well, yeah. Voldemort knew I took off the thrall, but basically I claimed teenage sexuality." Hermione laughed.

"I bet you did." Draco shrugged with a grin.

"Yeah, so, I got in trouble but it was Lucius who really got it in the neck, since you were meant to be secure there, thrall or not. My part in the escape hasn't come up yet, and I'm hoping it never will."

"Me too." Hermione agreed. "That'll be a bad day for you." Draco nodded.

"Indeed it will." He paused. "So…a Weasley? Good grief, Hermione!" Hermione laughed.

"Hey! I happen to be very happy as a Weasley." She returned. She shrugged. "When we got married it was more to take me off the map then anything…I was with Harry before I was captured, so it wasn't an ongoing thing."

"Bet Potter was pissed." Draco said. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, he was. But he could see it was the best way to keep me safe, and it's not like he had a choice anyway. I came back from speaking to Dumbledore with a ring on my finger and a husband so there wasn't a lot he could do." Draco chuckled as he imagined the incredulous look on Harry's face as Hermione was stolen from under his nose.

"So you don't love Charlie then? Hard work, loveless marriages." He said thoughtfully. Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't love him then, but I do now. Charlie's been beyond amazing, and he's such an unbelievably fantastic person…couldn't help myself." She said with a grin.

"How was he with Luke?" Draco asked. "And how did that even happen? You weren't showing when you escaped." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Luke was in a funny position in my womb, which is why I didn't show until the very end. As for how Charlie was with him, he was fantastic. I was terrible…I avoided him as much as possible, couldn't stand to look at him, so Charlie was basically doing everything. But I got past that and now I love him to bits."

"I can understand hating him." Draco said slowly, "Knowing what Lucius did to you. But I can't imagine looking after a rapist's son myself, when my wife, the rapee, can't stand the thing. I'd want to drown it at birth because of the bastard who hurt her." Hermione smiled gently.

"That was pretty much how I felt." She said quietly. "But Charlie is…"

"Fantastic?" Draco supplied drily. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. He saw right away the child is not the father, and worked from there."

"What about you?" Draco questioned. "How did you get past it? It's not exactly like you wake up one morning and be like, 'actually, I'm alright now'." Hermione snorted.

"Damn straight it isn't." She shook her head. "Basically I went away for a couple of days. Still on the mountain, just away from everyone else, and with some help, I forced myself to remember everything that had happened, face up to it, think through it and move on. It was terrible, but what's more, it made me realise how unfair I had been to Luke. After that, I was alright. Every so often I remember something horrible and it stops me dead in my tracks, but I get past it." She smiled. "It's an ongoing thing."

Draco stared at the beautiful, grown-up woman who stood in front of him, candidly discussing possibly the most traumatic experiences of her life. She had a son by rape, a husband who she gained for convenience, and was living miles from civilisation, completely off the map. And she was so…

There weren't even words for it.

He hadn't really considered the possibility that she was up here. Contrary to what he knew was popular belief, he hadn't bought his position. He'd actually worked for it, even if he did skip the stages of being the office skivvy. He didn't see the point of having a name like Malfoy and not using it, after all. But he'd spent years doing this work. Since he graduated from Hogwarts five years ago, he'd been working within the Ministry. Lucius and Voldemort were doing their utmost to control him, but Draco was becoming adept at slipping through their fingers while not openly defying them.

Only one woman had ever made him defy them. And she was still wearing the serpent necklace he gave her, the silver glittering at her throat.

"Draco? Please stop staring at me." Hermione said. Draco jerked back to the present.

"Sorry, I just…you still have the necklace." He said, surprised. "That was meant to send Lucius back." Hermione shook her head.

"I had something else. A bracelet he gave me. I didn't want to lose this necklace because I never wanted to forget." Draco raised his eyebrows.

"I'm moved." He said, only a little sarcastically. He was, in all honesty, touched that she had kept the necklace, that she still wore it. Hermione shrugged.

"You took a leap that not many would dare." She said simply. "You risked everything for me. I don't forget that kind of thing easily." Draco smiled.

"No, I can't imagine you just forgetting." He agreed. He nodded at something past her. "Your husband has come to see that I haven't killed you." Hermione smiled, glancing over her shoulder and seeing Charlie waiting by the door to the tent.

"I better go." She said. "I'm glad you came, you know. I never really got the chance to say thank you." Draco smiled.

"Yeah, well." Hermione smiled into the pause.

"Goodnight, Draco." She said with a smile, touching his shoulder briefly then turning and hurrying back to the tent. Draco watched as she met Charlie, who immediately took her arm. They spoke briefly and she rose up to kiss him, the kiss quickly deepening until it abruptly broke off. Charlie moved the flap and guided her inside, and then Draco was alone. He shook his head.

Feelings for Hermione would always be dangerous, and now that she was married, and happily so by the look and sound of it, they were redundant as well. Draco sighed, then turned to his own, empty tent.

&

Draco was woken several nights later by a crash and the sound of rocks falling, followed by a muttered 'bollocks' that he recognised instantly. He pulled a shirt on over his sweats, shoving his feet into boots and ducked out of his tent to look. Hermione stood on the ledge up and behind his tent, her face turned to the mountain. He coughed and she spun.

"Draco!" She exclaimed. She looked at what he was wearing and bit her lip. "I woke you. I'm sorry." He shrugged.

"Are you alright?" She smiled.

"Perfectly. I just hadn't quite got my night-vision yet and misstepped in the dark." He frowned.

"Night vision? Do this often, do you?" She nodded.

"Every night."

"Why?" he asked it like it was a stupid question and she grinned.

"To talk to the Matriarch, of course." She gestured with a hand up the mountain. "It's a bit of a trek, but it keeps me fit."

"You can talk to the Matriarch?" Draco asked incredulously. "How?" Hermione shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Something about my mind being torn open. Not you," she said hurriedly when she saw he was about to ask. "Probably Lucius. Either way, I talk to them regularly, as does Luke. But the Matriarch has taken me under her wing, so to speak." Draco rolled his eyes at the pun, and watched as Hermione frowned. "She'd like you to come with me, if you would also wish to." He nodded, and quietly the pair of them made their way up the mountain.

Draco's night sight was minimal, Hermione noticed as he nearly tripped again. Though that might be because he hadn't fastened his shoelace.

"Take my hand." She said, reaching back. He looked at her in bewilderment and she smiled. "The path gets very narrow. I don't want you to trip again and fall to your death."

"I'm touched." He muttered, but took her hand, just in case. She turned back and led the way forward.

"Here." She said quietly. "The path is only about two feet wide, but occasionally the path juts out. Be careful, it's straight down from here." Draco nodded, following her lead and very carefully placing his feet. It was almost totally dark, not only was the moon on the other side of the mountain but clouds kept obscuring it. "Concentrate!" Hermione snapped. Draco jumped, and noticed he'd been wavering towards the edge.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"You will be." She retorted. "Come on, we're nearly there." It was only a few more feet and then they followed a narrow path among the rocks themselves and then they were there, in a small clearing almost entirely encircled by the mountain walls. The peak stretched above them, a black silouette against the stars.

"I didn't know this was here." Draco breathed, looking around. Hermione nodded and walked off, and he hastily followed. He jerked to a stop when Hermione put out her hand into his path.

"Don't step on her." Hermione warned. And then suddenly, her mind was open to him, and he could see the whirligig of her thoughts.

Matriarch. She smiled, and bowed her head. Two eyes, very large and very close, blinked open, the starscapes in them visible even in the dark.

Hermione. The voice was deep and echoed in his head. Draco. So you have come to see me, namesake. Draco nodded nervously. Judging by the nearness of the eyes, her mouth was very close to him. She laughed, a huffing sound in reality but in his mind it was rich and strong. Do not fear, Draco. Had I desired to eat you, you would long since be dead. Draco shot a worried look at Hermione, who was smiling.

Hermione said you wished me to see you? Draco asked tentatively.

You have much to discuss. She replied. You were her freedom. Draco glanced at Hermione, but she was silent and was looking away.

Well, she said thanks. Draco shrugged. There's not anything more I want, really. The dragon turned to look at Hermione, who shook her head. Clearly they were having a private conversation.

He should know. The Matriarch said only to Hermione. Hermione disagreed.

You said yourself that the father does not matter. Hermione argued.

Not to you. But for the father, his child means a great deal. I have seen it. 

A child means a great deal to everyone. Hermione replied. Of course it would be important to him. But Luke is happy where he is, and it would only complicate things. 

Are not things suitably complicated as it stands? The Matriarch questioned. He is your saviour, Hermione, and the father of your son. 

I lied to him. He thinks Luke is his brother. Hermione said. The Matriarch didn't reply, merely stared her down. Hermione sighed and slumped to the floor, resting her head in her hands.

"Hermione?" Draco was at her side immediately, taking her hand and gently lifting her face to look at him. "Are you alright? What is it?" Hermione shook her head with a weak smile.

"I'm fine, Draco. I promise." She reassured him. "But there is something we need to talk about." Draco frowned.

"What?" Hermione glanced at the dragon, who was still watching them with an implacable stare. It was unnerving, though Draco suspected that that was the reaction the Matriarch was aiming for.

"I'm sorry, Draco." She said quietly. "I lied to you."

"About what?" Draco asked, his mind already running over what she could have lied to him about. He realised almost instantly. "No."

"Draco-"

"No!" Draco jumped to his feet and began pacing, and Hermione slowly rose to watch him. He stopped and turned on her. "Luke is my son?" He demanded. Hermione lifted her chin.

"Yes."

"And you told me he was my brother because?" He questionned savagely. He was beyond furious.

"Because Charlie is Luke's acting father." Hermione replied quietly. "Because Charlie is the only father Luke has ever known or will ever know." She took a deep breath. "Draco, I lied to you so this would not happen. I will not allow you to take Luke away from either myself nor Charlie, nor will I allow you to make this difficult for any of us."

"Does Charlie know?" Draco demanded. He was white faced, his lips so pinched as to be non-existent.

"No." Hermione said.

"You lied to him too? Some marriage you have." He spat. Hermione remained calm with some effort.

"I never lied to him. He knows Luke's father is a Malfoy, he just doesn't know which. He always assumed it was Lucius."

"Figures." Draco snapped. Hermione glared.

"Hey! Look, I'm sorry. But this is what happened. I can't help it, I couldn't stop it, and you, like me, are going to have to learn to deal with it."

"And then what? Come on, Hermione, no one but the Malfoys have that colour hair. No one will believe he is a Weasley. They defy genetics with their red hair and freckles."

"Hair dye."

"So, what? You're going to dye his hair his entire life? And what about when he stops, when he gets older and decides it isnt fun anymore? What then? There'll suddenly be a Malfoy in the Weasley brood."

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Hermione said flatly. Draco looked at her.

"So much for Miss Planning Ahead." He sneered.

"That's Mrs." She retorted. "Look Draco, I am sorry. I truly am. If I thought there was a viable way of involving you, I would. Because you know what? I think you're a good man and one my son could look up to. But it isn't realistic. Your father would kill us all. Voldemort is still out there, Draco. Six years on and he's still there. The world is no brighter now than it was when I married Charlie and moved here. This world is safe for Luke. He's safe and he's happy. Introducing you to him as his father would do nothing but confuse him." Hermione sighed. "Draco, he barely knows there is a world beyond this mountain and the dragons. He isn't ready for the outside world. He doesn't understand it."

"That's because you've kept him up here." Draco retorted.

"I have kept him safe!" Hermione shouted. Draco was silent. "Draco, I have never done anything but protect my son." She railed. "And protecting him meant I couldn't tell you. Protecting him means I can't tell Charlie. Protecting him means-"

"What about you?" Draco asked quietly. Hermione stopped her rant, confused.

"What about me?"

"When do you just be you?" Hermione laughed quietly.

"Draco, I am a mother. I don't get to be just me, especially when it is so dangerous for-" Before she even realised what was happening Draco stepped in to her and kissed her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. He wasn't holding her, she could step back anytime she liked.

And yet she found she couldn't, her mouth tipped up to meet his.

When he pulled back, Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself. It had been a long time, and despite everything she felt for Charlie, he couldn't do that to her.

"Draco-"

"Are you in love with him?" Draco asked. Hermione stared and he continued. "You said you love him, which I can well imagine. But are you _in_ love with him?"

"Draco-"

"You been together six years, Hermione. Where are the children?"

"You bastard." Hermione said, shocked. "What do you mean? Like this is any place to bring up children!"

"You brought up Luke." Draco pointed out.

"I didn't have any choice." Hermione replied. "As for your question, my feelings for Charlie are my own affair. And no matter how you make me feel, I won't betray him for something that will probably ultimately get us killed." She nodded once to the Matriarch, spun on her heel, and left, leaving Draco staring at the gap in the rock that led away from the circle.

&

Hermione slipped under the covers next to Charlie, smiling as he grumbled in his sleep, turning to put an arm over her and pull her closer to him. She closed her eyes, taking in his warmth,

But she couldn't sleep.

What had Draco been thinking? There were so many things wrong with their conversation tonight that it barely bore thinking about. About Luke and Charlie and them, not that there was a 'them' at all anyway. She was confident she had made the right choice for everybody by refusing Draco, there was no need to complicate relationships when they were all stuck on a mountain together.

Still, she couldn't help feeling a pang of regret. There was always going to be that something between them, something that couldn't be replicated because it wasn't just borne out of him saving her, but came from the total and utter bonding of their minds the night that he pulled her from the pit. She knew him better then then anyone, and she knew the feeling was mutual.

That kind of link left a tangible bond. And it was tangible, she _could_ feel it, as an electric shiver every time he looked at her.

It was very bad for her marriage.

"Hermione, your head will explode if you don't stop thinking and sleep." Charlie said sleepily, opening one green-blue eye to peer at her. She smiled.

"Sorry." She whispered, shifting closer to him and breathing deeply, trying to calm herself.

Hermione. 

Well, that certainly wouldn't help.

Yes? The Matriarch paused. Matriarch? 

Your talk with Draco did not go as I expected. the great dragon said. You hold much anger for each other. 

I'm not so sure it's anger. Hermione replied. We know each other's minds, it's a link that's hard to ignore but must be. 

A link such as that is sacred and must be revered. The Matriarch said. Surely your mate would understand. 

The mere thought of Charlie understanding the link between Hermione and Draco nearly made her giggle, and the thought of Charlie willingly sharing her made her roll her eyes. She may not be _in_ love with Charlie, but she suspected he was in love with her. And he, like every Weasley she had ever known, was fiercely protective over what he considered to be in need of him. And she was the first person on that list…her very marriage was based on that principle. There wasn't a chance in hell that Charlie would understand, he was much more likely simply to kill Draco and get it over with.

Perhaps not then. The Matriarch amended. Then you must choose. 

I have done. Hermione said quietly. I chose what was best for Luke, and for Charlie, and for me. 

For them, perhaps. Not for you. 

They are all that matter to me. Hermione replied honestly. I choose them. Another pang of regret, but fainter now.

Very well. The Matriarch said with a frightening tone of finality, and then she was gone from Hermione's mind. Hermione suddenly found herself exhausted, and within seconds she was asleep.


	13. Chapter 12

Well, we're getting there. Only a few bits left now. Enjoy. Istalindar.

&

It had been a month since Hermione had chosen her family over Draco, and she was still feeling regrets. To be fair, chances were she'd feel them for a long time, but this, having dinner with her family, exchanging annoyed looks with Charlie about Luke and sharply telling Nassa to be patient while Luke ate…this was her life now. And she did not regret that.

"Hermione!" Draco burst into the tent, and Hermione and Charlie turned identical irritated glances on him. Luke took the opportunity to pass half his dinner to the dragon waiting outside.

"Draco, we're having dinner." Hermione said reprovingly.

"Don't you knock?" Charlie added. Draco sent him a withering glance.

"On fabric?" He asked snidely. "Hermione, you need to see this." He handed her a folded parchment and she looked at it, recognising the broken Malfoy seal immediately.

"What is it?" she asked, not moving to open it.

"It arrived today." Draco said. She frowned, immediately seeing the problem.

"How? We're unplottable."

"Not anymore." Draco said. There was a devastating pause. "Lucius' owl brought this this morning. Either someone told Lucius, or the secrecy's been raised."

"They wouldn't raise the secrecy." Charlie countered. "We've not even had personnel interviews yet."

"Then someone told Lucius." Hermione concluded. She glanced at Draco. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"Read the letter." Draco said unhelpfully. Hermione unfolded it, skimming the hated handwriting quickly.

Draco 

_You have been keeping quiet, though I am pleased that you managed to get yourself stationed in such a position as supervisor to the dragon reserve. Our Lord has taken an interest in the dragons and will visit with the expected entourage in three days. Be prepared to welcome him._

Lucius.

Hermione wordlessly passed the letter to Charlie, and looked to Draco. He was very pale.

"We need to evacuate." She said quietly, already making and discarding plans in her head. "All the researchers need to be absent. I'll speak with the dragons, perhaps they too can leave, if only for a while."

"You need to be well gone." Draco said flatly. "And Luke."

"He's right, Hermione. And don't argue." Charlie said. Hermione looked at them both.

"I'm not suicidal, you know. Of course I'll be gone, and Luke with me. I'll go speak with the Matriarch now and see what can be arranged." She looked at her son, who was listening intently. "Luke, with me."

"Yes mum." He said quietly, leaving his plate and going to her side, taking her hand. She nodded to her husband and Draco and disappeared from the tent.

"You didn't have to show her this." Charlie said.

"Of course I did." Draco replied sharply. "You think I'd leave her and Luke to Voldemort?"

"Would you?" Charlie asked. Draco glared.

"Has she told you what happened to her at the Manor?" Draco demanded. Charlie shrugged.

"Some."

"She was under a thrall by Lucius." Draco said. "I freed her. I am hardly going to go through the effort and risk of saving her then just to let her die now. Charlie, I know she's your wife, but we have a bond that means I will never risk her."

"What kind of bond?" Charlie asked suspiciously, stepping forward. Draco, recognising the warning signs from repeated encounters with younger Weasley's stepped back.

"The bond that comes from knowing each other's minds completely." He said quietly. "Nothing more." Charlie relaxed minimally. "Charlie, I know our families despise each other. But right now, she and Luke matter a hell of a lot more than that."

"Luke? What does he have to do with this?" Charlie asked quickly. Draco took a deep breath and said the lie Hermione wanted.

"He's my brother." Draco answered. "So he's family. And I protect my family."

"And I protect mine." Charlie said, his voice edged with threat. Draco smiled.

"Then we agree."

&

"Are you sure about this?" Joe asked, looking at Hermione. She nodded.

"Quite sure."

"Sure enough to move the entire settlement? Good grief, Hermione, that'll take days!"

"We don't have days." Hermione said seriously. "We barely have enough time to grab the vital stuff like our notes and get off this mountain. Joe, Lucius said Voldemort was coming here. In three days. Which, when you take into account the time it took for the owl to fly here, is more like tomorrow, or the day after if we're very lucky."

"That's hours to evacuate the entire mountain." Joe protested.

"Joe, I don't think you get me." Hermione said, bracing her arms on the table and leaning forward. "Voldemort is coming here. Do you really think he's just going to want the tour? There will be big trouble if he comes and we're still here. We need to leave, _now_. There's only a few of us, so if we grab our notes, we can get out of here. Only until he leaves."

"But how are we going to leave? No brooms, no port keys, and you can't physically climb down this mountain, it turns into sheer cliffs below the cloud line."

"The dragons will take us somewhere safe." Hermione said, "The Matriarch has assured me as much. But we need to leave _now_." Joe nodded.

"I'll call a council." Hermione stared.

"Joe! What part of 'we haven't got time' do you not understand?" she exclaimed.

"Hermione, listen to me. I understand your urgency, I do. But the others aren't going to leave unless I can convince them that this is really happening. Now, you get your dragons on standby, if you can, and I'll convince the others to leave. Once that's done it'll be a matter of minutes."

"Joe-"

"Charlie and Luke can go now." Joe said, guessing what she would say. "And get things sorted on the other side. We need you here to organise the dragons, people are going to be very nervous about this." Hermione nodded.

"Alright." Joe smiled.

"It'll be okay, Hermione. Just get your family organised and I'll get the others sorted." Hermione nodded.

"Thank you." Joe shrugged.

"Hey, I don't want to die any more than you do."

"No." Hermione sighed, she knew Charlie would be like this. "No way in hell."

"Watch it." Hermione said sharply, her gaze flicking to Luke, who stood wide-eyed, watching them. Charlie took a deep breath.

"I am not leaving you." Charlie said. Hermione met his gaze and held it.

"Charlie, please, just listen to me okay?" he nodded. "Luke needs to be well away, we both agree. And I need to be here to be a liaison between the dragons and the crew so that everything runs smoothly. Luke can't wait for me to leave to go, so you have to take him. Preferably first."

"No. If you're last to go we're second to last." Charlie argued. Hermione shook her head.

"No. I can't risk Luke being anywhere near. If timing gets tight I need to know Luke is far away and safe, with you with him to ensure that. I've spoken to Joe already, Charlie. You and Charlie will go first to pave the way. If nothing else, me sending my family will reassure the others that it's safe. I will stay behind and the last person to leave won't be me, it'll be Draco."

"Why does he get to stay?" Charlie demanded. Hermione shook her head.

"Charlie, think about this. Lucius thinks Draco is loyal. If they come while Draco is here, it'll be okay. And he'll be able to cover me if necessary. And I can't send Draco away with my son. I trust him, but I just couldn't do that."

"You'll send me though."

"Charlie! You are his father!" Hermione exclaimed. Charlie shook his head.

"No I'm not." Hermione stared at him in shock.

"Yes you are." She glanced at Luke, who was watching them. His thumb had crept his mouth, a sure sign he was unhappy with the situation.

It's okay, honey. Hermione reassured him. Everything's going to be okay. 

They're coming for you again. Luke replied, sounding tearful. The bad people. Hermione shook her head, going to crouch by Luke and stroke his hair.

They're coming for the dragons. But because Draco warned us, we can move everyone away. You'll go with Daddy, and I'll come as soon as everyone is safe. 

And then Uncle Draco? Luke questioned. Hermione smiled.

Yes. Then Uncle Draco. 

I'm scared. Why are you and Daddy fighting? Hermione shot a look at Charlie, who was staring at them, unable to know what they were talking about.

"Daddy is worried about us." Hermione answered out loud so Charlie could hear. "That's why we're fighting. Because I want you and Daddy to be safe, and he wants me and you to be safe. That's all." She gave Charlie a warning glance, and Charlie slumped slightly, defeated. "Everything's going to be okay, Luke. I promise."

&

"That's Joe gone." Draco ran up to where Hermione and the Matriarch were talking. Mitah, the Matriarch's eldest daughter, sat uneasily beside them, sweeping her giant silver tail back and worth, causing a strong wind behind them. "Hermione, you're next." Hermione nodded, turning to Mitah.

You ready? 

Taking humans _between_ is not advisable. Mitah replied. I don't know what could happen. 

We've taken that risk so far, Mitah. Hermione replied. We can take it again. 

You are different. 

"Hermione. You have to go! They could be here any second." Draco said urgently. There were loud pops and they all froze.

Go! Hermione hissed.

Without you? The Matriarch asked.

Yes, go! Voldemort cannot find you. 

Farewell. The two dragons vanished, no pop, no smoke, just vanished, leaving Hermione and Draco staring at empty space. They slowly turned, and saw the deatheaters.

Voldemort led them, flanked by Lucius, Nott, Goyle, Crabbe and Bellatrix. He gave a long, slow smile when he saw Hermione.

"Hermione." He purred. Lucius' head jerked from looking around to stare right at her. She smiled back.

"Voldemort." She nodded, slamming up her mental walls. "Long time."

"How dare you speak to the-" Lucius began, but was cut off when Voldemort raised a hand for silence.

"You've grown, my dear."

"You haven't." She replied. "What do you want?"

"I came for the dragons." Voldemort said, his voice still a low purr. "But they seem to have vanished."

"How unfortunate."

"Draco?" Voldemort turned to him. "Where are my dragons?" Draco shrugged.

"I don't know."

"Draco." Lucius snarled. "You will show the proper respect. He is your Lord!" Voldemort laughed.

"Lucius, do not be foolish." Lucius stared at Voldemort in shock. "I am no more Draco's lord than I am Hermione's. He forsake me when she did."

"What?" Lucius demanded.

"It was he who freed Hermione from your thrall. And," he looked at Hermione carefully. "It was he who fathered her son, by the same process, actually." Voldemort smiled, and Hermione went cold. Voldemort knew way too much. "Where is the boy?"

"Gone." Hermione said. She didn't try to lie and say Luke was dead, it would've been pointless. Perhaps with Lucius it might have worked, but not with Voldemort. Her best occlumency was hardly an insurmountable obstacle to one of the best legilimens in history.

"With the dragons." Voldemort said, surprised. He recovered quickly. "How…unexpected." He drawled.

"How is that possible? The dragons would have eaten him before they took him somewhere." Lucius pointed out.

"Not her son." Voldemort replied, his gaze never leaving her. "She's Dragon-Kept."

"Huh?" This was news to Hermione.

"The dragons will protect her son until she comes for him." Voldemort shook his head. "There is no point to staying here, we will not be able to find the boy. Bring them. We will return." Nott and Crabbe stepped forward, taking Hermione and Draco roughly by the arm and apparating. Voldemort looked one last time at the deserted mountain, then disappeared.

They reappeared in the familiar settings of Malfoy Manor. Strangely enough, it was reassuring to Hermione, much more so than if she had been taken to somewhere she didn't know. But this was practically home, she knew the ins and outs, could break for the front door from here, or the back door, or even the House-Elves excuse for a door in the kitchen.

It calmed her a little. She was fervently glad that Charlie and Luke had gone first.

"So." Voldemort said, seating himself on a large chair at the head of the hall. "Draco." Draco merely looked at him. Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "Kneel!" He whipped out his wand and Draco was forced to his knees. "You knew she was there. And you didn't inform your father."

"I couldn't. It was an unplottable location." Draco replied reasonably. Voldemort sneered.

"Perhaps a tad more ingenuity on your part could have been helpful." He hissed. "Crucio!" Draco collapsed on the floor in a ball, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Stop it." Hermione said. She was feeling very strange…the resignation from the Manor had returned. But it seemed tougher this time, more assertive. She wasn't going to scream or cry, but she damn well wasn't going to watch this, either. Lucius slapped her and she glared at him. "I said, stop it." Voldemort stopped, looking at her.

"Very well." He said. "Crucio." Immediate pain spread through her body like fire, ripping her muscles apart, every nerve screaming. She fell first to her knees, and then flat out on the floor, convulsing as all her muscles spasmed. She tasted blood in her mouth, she must have bitten her tongue. Her eyes rolled back in her sockets in pain, the very fluid in the eyeball seeming to burn. "Finite incantem." The pain vanished, and Hermione took a second to make sure everything was still attached and still worked, then slowly clambered to her feet.

"That is a morsel of the pain I could give you." Voldemort hissed. "Your rebellion has been amusing, but enough is enough." He turned to Draco, who had risen to his knees. "Draco. Your excuse is paltry. Another managed to inform us of its location. Annabelle!" A deatheater stepped forward, and pushed her hood back, revealing Diane. Hermione blanched.

"Di? But you were the one being the most careful about it."

"Always the quiet ones." Annabelle sneered.

"Hardly." Hermione snorted. Annabelle glared.

"Silence." Voldemort said softly, and Annabelle immediately fell back. "I must say, Hermione, I'm impressed with you. Escaping the thrall, escaping Lucius…though neither would have been possible without young Draco's help." Voldemort smiled. "Crucio." Hermione tensed, expecting pain, but instead saw Draco fall to the floor again from where he had been rising, contorting in pain.

"Stop it." Hermione said, stepping between Voldemort and Draco. "What do you want? If this is about revenge then there isn't any point. If this is about making an example of us…there isn't any point. In fact, everything about this is pointless."

"Sending your head back to your precious Potter would not be pointless, I don't think." Voldemort said smoothly. Hermione shrugged.

"Harry would be upset, you're right. But I'm nothing to him now compared to then. I've not said a word to him in over six years, Voldemort. I've not seen him and he's not seen me. Last time we spoke I sided with my husband, and Harry, as far as I know, is still angry at me for just that. So what is it you want?"

There was utter silence. In fact, the room had been silent since Hermione had said his name.

"How dare you speak my name." Voldemort thundered, rising. Hermione didn't flinch. Dragons were still scarier.

"It's a name." She said flatly. "You haven't answered my question."

"Crucio." This time it was her that felt the pain, like her muscle was being ripped from her bone and her skin was peeling off in strips.

But suddenly…it didn't matter.

Trust her to have an epiphany now, when every nerve was on fire. This didn't matter. Pain was secondary. Hell, even death didn't matter all that much. Because all it was was a change, like growing up. It was more like growing out. So death didn't matter, and neither did pain, so…what was she afraid of? Especially since Charlie and Luke were far away.

It appeared the epiphany had followed the conclusion, because she hadn't been afraid of Voldemort at all before anyway. So she tried something, something she would never have considering trying before. She pushed away the feelings of pain, disconnected herself from her sensory neurons, and slowly rose to her feet.

The deatheaters gasped.

"Enough." She said flatly, and Voldemort stared at her, open shock plain to see on his face. He must have been surprised, to let his guard down like that. She reached down and hauled Draco to his feet and he stood beside her, wavering. She reached out gently to his mind and shared her epiphany with him, and after a dubious second, he straightened as well. Even if he didn't believe her, he was pretending he did.

"What in Merlin's name…" A deatheater breathed. Voldemort lashed out instantly.

"Avada Kedava!" The deatheater in question fell down dead.

"Death isn't something to be afraid of." Hermione said clearly. "And pain will pass, and can be controlled until it does." She smiled. "I do not fear you, Voldemort, nor do I fear your followers. You can Crucio me all you like, when I pass out I'll be free from you anyway. And when I wake up, I will still live. And even if you kill me…we've all seen ghosts. You cannot stop me." She smiled and repeated herself.

"You cannot stop me."

&


	14. Chapter 13

Enjoy. Istalindar.

&

Voldemort flew into a rage. He cursed and he hexed and deatheaters lay like felled trees, and at the end of it, when he stood panting in the centre of the decimated room, he stared in horror as Hermione staggered to her feet, Draco following her example.

"You…witch." He swore. She smiled.

"Why, thank you." She cocked her head slightly. "I meant it. You can't stop me. And by me, of course, I meant us." Voldemort frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Avada Kedava." He froze, eyes wide, before toppling face first onto a pile of deatheaters. Hermione stepped back, a look of disgust on her face. Behind Voldemort stood Harry, flanked by Ron and Ginny. She smiled and took a deep breath.

"Hello." Harry smiled back.

"Hello."

"Are you sure he's dead?" Draco asked, looking dubiously at the fallen dark lord.

"Should be." Ginny shrugged. "We've been destroying horcruxes for years. We found the last one and destroyed it last week. Then you tipped us off to this, and it went better than expected."

"We weren't expecting him to go psycho. We were expecting an all out battle. We even brought people to help." Slowly people began emerging from doors off the room, and Hermione looked around.

"Wow. You finally learnt to delegate, Harry." He snorted.

"Ginny made me do it." Ginny shrugged, and Hermione noticed the ring on her finger.

"You're married? Congratulations!" Harry coughed, and Dean Thomas stepped up beside her. "To Dean." Hermione continued with a wince. "Congratulations!" Ginny laughed.

"Yeah, well. I have a husband, so I leave Lavender to sort out Harry." Hermione raised her eyebrow.

"It's a long story." Harry said. "Nice speech, by the way."

"An epiphany." Hermione agreed. She wavered, and Ron darted forward and caught her.

"Whoa there." He gently set her down on a clear bit of floor, and Draco flopped down next to her.

"Yeah, I can talk about not feeling Crucios…but they still take it out of you." Hermione shook her head. "Thanks for the backup…how'd you know we'd be here?"

"Malfoy told us." Harry said. He watched as everyone around him started restraining the living deatheaters and setting the dead ones aside before stepping down to crouch beside Hermione and Draco. "He figured if a deatheater could break the unplottability, he could too. He told us about the evacuation and that the deatheaters would probably bring people back here, so we planned and got here first."

"You only had like two days." Hermione said, impressed. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, well…" Draco rolled his eyes.

"It was a contingency plan of mine, actually." Draco said. Hermione remembered him telling her he had them…years and years ago. Before they were grown up. "I gave Harry blueprints for the manor, complete with the wards to get in and out, the traps and protection. All he had to do was turn up when I told him to." Hermione glanced at Harry and saw him glaring at Draco and knew it was true and snorted quietly.

"What would have happened if I wasn't here though?" he demanded peevishly. Hermione smiled.

"I don't know, Harry, I really don't. But I like this situation just fine. I need a day and a night to recover, and then I'm back to the mountain."

"What? But Hermione, you can stay now!" Harry protested. Hermione smiled and patted his arm.

"My husband works with dragons, Harry. It's unlikely I'll ever be away from them for too long. If I even wanted to be. I love it, Harry."

"And you said yourself Luke isn't ready." Draco put in. Hermione glared.

"And Luke isn't ready. He does have to join the real world at some point though…Voldemort being gone opens up some options." She smiled.

"I have a nephew?" Ginny demanded, appearing beside them.

"By marriage." Hermione said. There was no point pretending Luke was a Weasley, he was so blatantly a Malfoy that it would probably give Molly a heart attack to look at him anyway. Ginny stared. "Luke was conceived at the Manor."

"But that was years ago!" Harry exclaimed.

"Luke is six." Draco said dryly. There was silence. "But if it helps, he's as handsome as I am, with my amazing wit and charm, and her brains." He nodded at Hermione.

"You bastard!" Harry swung at him and Hermione smacked him.

"Hey! Draco got them from somewhere too, remember." She said warningly. Harry subsided, interpreting her comment exactly as she had planned him too. Draco glanced at her and she shook her head minimally.

"Does this mean the house is mine?" Draco asked suddenly, looking around. Hermione grinned.

"Probably. Especially since your mother-"

"My mum wasn't a deatheater." Draco interrupted. "She was above the whole thing. Felt like it was boys playing at being princes. She had your attitude towards Voldemort."

"I like her already." Hermione grinned.

"Is that meant to gratify me?" Everyone spun and saw Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway. "When my dining room is full of deatheaters and corpses? Forgive me, Miss Granger, if I'm not overflowing with gratitude."

"Mrs Malfoy." Hermione didn't bother to correct her, and struggled to her feet. Narcissa waved a hand.

"Sit, Miss Granger. I am impressed by your little display, having you pass out might turn out to be somewhat of an anticlimax." Hermione sat back.

"She's a Weasley, now, Mum." Draco said.

"Really? Hm." Narcissa shrugged elegantly. "I've called the Ministry, they should be here soon to clean up your mess. Mrs Weasley and my son shall, of course, stay here at the Manor tonight. They will meet with you tomorrow so you may swap gossip, and then both have duties to continue." Hermione glanced at Draco and he mouthed 'legilimens' to her, and she nodded. She'd forgotten all about her walls after Harry had appeared and Voldemort had died. It would have been easy for Narcissa to slip in.

"Molly will want-" Harry began. Narcissa silenced him with a look.

"Molly will see Hermione tomorrow." Narcissa said with finality. "Now, why don't you run off to the Burrow and inform her of what's happened. I assure you, Hermione will be well cared for here. Go." Harry hesitated, and as one by one his little army vanished, he sighed. Narcissa took that as assent. "Good. We'll speak tomorrow." Finally it was only him left, and then he disappeared with a 'pop'. Hermione sighed in relief. Being around Harry was weird…and the seven to eight years since she'd last had a proper conversation with him had only served to make him more…intense.

"Come, Draco, Hermione. Let's get you two settled so you can get some sleep. We'll speak after dinner." With a start Hermione realised that it was nearly morning, the sun turning the night into a misty grey dawn.

Narcissa took her arm and guided her to her feet, Draco in her other hand, and half marched, half dragged them to a wing of the house that Hermione had never seen before, Narcissa's personal wing, and left them in adjacent guest rooms to sleep. Draco struggled to stay awake, but Narcissa fixed him with a look he had known since childhood which said simply 'Bed. Now', and Hermione was all too happy to oblige, barely kicking off her shoes before she passed out on top of the sheets. Narcissa clucked her tongue, changing the girl into pyjamas before tucking her into bed before checking on her son.

"So?" She asked quietly, coming into his room. He hadn't gone to bed, instead he was standing by the window, staring out.

"It was fast, wasn't it?"

"The ambush depended on speed." She replied. "And it more than time for Voldemort to fall, he was unbelievably sloppy. He didn't even check for intruders when he apparated back here with you."

"That's because the Manor's meant to be impervious." Draco said with a snort. Narcissa shrugged and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Nowhere is completely impervious." She replied. "You simply must have the right skills and the right friends." Draco shook his head and she waited. "What is it?" She asked, aware something else bothered him.

"It's complicated."

"I'll listen." She answered quietly. Draco sent her a grateful look; she had always listened. Even if she did nothing about it, even if she told his father or took matters into her own hands (and sometimes he wasn't sure which was worse) she always listened.

"You must promise not to do or say anything about it." He warned her. Her eyebrows rose.

"I promise."

"It's about Hermione." He said, shifting. She smiled. She'd picked up on that particular link the moment that she'd probed Hermione's mind. It was as obvious as a thick silver cord between their heads, if one had the skill to see it. "She's married, mum."

"To the wrong man." Narcissa concluded. "Or so you think." Draco huffed and rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the bed.

"I love her. Or I might not, and it's this stupid link that makes me think I do. It feels like…like if I took the slightest mental step in her direction I'd be in her head again, completely, like last time."

"And like she could do the same." Narcissa finished. Draco nodded. "Links like that…you don't need love to feel that close to a person, Draco." He nodded.

"Yeah, I kinda guessed that from the start." He agreed. "Plus she has a son."

Something about that comment immediately sat wrongly with Narcissa, but she couldn't work out what it was. Draco said nothing more, so she tentatively reached into his mind and there it was, sitting as plain as could be, waiting for her.

Sure, Hermione had a son. But then, so did Draco. The problem lay in that the boys were one and the same.

"Draco." She said softly, and sat next to him on the bed. He leaned into her in a way he hadn't done since he was thirteen, over ten years ago.

"He looks just like me." He said quietly. "But he acts like her, laughing and smiling and playing and he's so smart." He hesitated. "The only thing of me I see is what he looks like."

"Draco, you used to laugh and smile and play too." Narcissa said gently.

"Really?" Draco snorted disbelievingly.

"A long time ago." She answered with a nod, remembering. It was a very long time ago, before Voldemort's return, before even whispers of his return. Those ten blissful years where she'd had peace with her son and to a certain extent, her husband.

"I don't remember."

"I promise you did." She said gently. He nodded.

"Thing is, what do I do now?" He asked. "Luke…he's my son. But Hermione won't say anything, Luke calls me his uncle and Charlie thinks he's my brother, not my goddam son."

"Draco…how did you get a son?" Narcissa asked. "Lucius would never…"

"He left her as thrall to die for Forsythe." Draco said. "I broke the thrall."

"By sleeping with her." Narcissa said disbelievingly.

"A thrall is just an obsession." Draco said with a shrug. "I broke her obsession with him."

"And gave her one of you?" Narcissa asked.

"Hardly." Draco shook his head. "She barely thinks of me." Narcissa stroked Draco's hair, and he closed his eyes, wishing beyond belief that he was nine again, but knowing without a doubt that he never would be.

"I think, Draco, that she cannot go a day without thinking of you, whether because of her son or because of the snake at her throat. And that's its own kind of obsession, don't you think?" Draco sighed and shook his head, and she smiled. "Go to sleep, Draco. We'll speak in the morning." He nodded, and she rose to leave. "Oh, and Draco?" He met her gaze. "You'll need to replace that necklace you stole from my jewelery box, it was a favourite." Draco grinned, and she slipped from the room.

&

Hermione woke with a start, and for a moment she was confused and lost, until she remembered. Voldemort was gone. Narcissa was actually kinda nice. Harry was back.

She had to somehow find her husband and son, who could be in another dimension for all she knew.

"Good evening, miss." Hermione saw Dimmy standing by the fireplace and grinned.

"Dimmy!" Dimmy smiled and bobbed her head.

"Mistress says Miss is to meet her and Master Draco in the study for dinner, she sent these clothes." The clothes were rather nice robes, a dark red in colour. Hermione let Dimmy help her into them, and allowed the house elf to lead her to the study, even though Hermione knew the way. Just being here brought back memories, but somehow, they didn't seem so painful anymore. More like…character building.

"Ah, here she is." Narcissa looked up from where she had been talking to Draco. "You look presentable." Hermione smiled, guessing from Draco's wince to take Narcissa as she came, without becoming offended.

"Thank you." She took the seat that Narcissa gestured her to, and waited while the food appeared on her plate. "And thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Malfoy."

"Narcissa, if you please. Now. Tell me what's going on. I met you last when you were my husbands darling little slave girl. Quite a change from that to this." Hermione smiled.

"Well, thrallage isn't the real thing, Narcissa."

"Yes, Draco did mention that he'd raised that. Interesting method though." Hermione shot a look at Draco, cheeks burning. He shrugged sheepishly. "He doesn't keep things from me, Hermione. Couldn't if he tried. Now. He helped you escape, am I right?" Hermione nodded, taking her cues from Draco's minute gestures. "And you married that Weasley boy to keep yourself off the map. And, of course, when you went to the unplottable mountain with the dragons, you truly did disappear."

"Until Dianne blew the whistle on us." Hermione said, a little bitterly.

"Well, Annabelle…Dianne as you call her, has always been somewhat of a snitch." Narcissa dismissed her. "So you moved to the mountain with the Weasley, and my grandson." Hermione glared at Draco, and Narcissa laughed. "Dear girl, I could have picked that out of your mind without bothering to go to his. He didn't tell me."

"And then Dianne called Voldemort, he came, we evacuated most of the mountain, Draco and I were brought here, we stood up to him, Harry killed him, you arrived." Hermione finished the story, feeling irritable with Narcissa's seeming unending knowledge of her personal life.

"Hmm." The way Narcissa said 'hmm' made Hermione wary, and judging by the look of Draco's face, it made him wary too. "So. You've got my grandson on a mountain with a man who isn'' his father, and yet you refuse to tell both the Weasley and the boy that 'Uncle' Draco is actually 'Daddy' Draco." Narcissa fixed Hermione with a piercing stare. "Do you think that's right?" Draco groaned softly and hung his head.

"Mrs Malfoy." Hermione said tartly. "I will raise my son how I wish. And maybe when he's older I will explain it to him, to both of them. But in the meantime, he is too young, and Charlie doesn't need to know."

"Doesn't he?" Narcissa asked silkily. "Or are you ashamed you slept with my son, Mrs Weasley?" Hermione glared.

"Let's get a few things very straight, Mrs Malfoy. I am not ashamed that I slept with your son, because I was doing nothing wrong. He saved my life, and I don't care what anyone says, including you and Charlie, I will never regret it, I will never say it is anything but what it is. And I will not stand for you to say that I am ashamed that Luke's father is Draco rather than Charlie. Because I am not." Narcissa sat, rather wide-eyed, at Hermione's outburst. "However, Luke has grown up thinking Charlie is his father, and before Voldemort died it was a convenient arrangement. Now that we have a bit more freedom, I may decide it's time to discuss certain things with my son and my husband." Hermione turned to Draco.

"I'm not blocking you out." She said gently, "By any means. But I need to work out how to do this with as little bloodshed and trauma for everyone as possible. You know what Ron was like when I was his friend, imagine him with me as his wife. The Weasleys are all the same, Draco, fiercely protective. I need to work out the best way to tell him that won't immediately make him go out to kill you."

"I can appreciate the logic in that." Draco said. His sixth year at Hogwarts, Ron had broken his jaw for implying that Hermione might not be missing at all. He'd only been trying to help, but Ron had taken it completely the wrong way.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled. "But first we have to find them. God only knows where the dragons took them."

"You might be able to talk to the Matriarch from the Mountain." Draco suggested. "She's bound to be waiting for a sign of some sort." Hermione nodded.

"Right, then that's what we'll do." She said with a smile.

"First you will visit the Weasleys." Narcissa said. She sniffed. "They all turned up on my doorstep afternoon, demanding to see you. I told them you slept, but they will not let it go." Hermione smiled, aware of Mrs Weasley's tenacity, a trait she passed on to all her children.

"Alright, we'll see them first. Then we'll go." She paused. "Preferably before we get mentioned in some interview and end up being hounded by the press."

"At least you have some discretion." Narcissa commented cooly.

"Mother!" Draco hissed. Hermione smiled and said nothing.

&


	15. Chapter 14

Second to last chapter…last one is the epilogue. I hope you guys have been enjoying this. Please enjoy and review ;p Istalindar

&

Hermione appeared, alone, just off the Weasley property, in the same place she had appeared seven years ago after escaping the Manor. She picked her way down the path to the house, marvelling at her ability to make it in the mud, the dark and with weak legs. As it was she slipped at least twice, swearing under her breath. She finally made it to the house though, and banged on the door. Molly opened it almost immediately, pulling Hermione into a tight hug.

"Hermione! My dear girl, are you alright?" She demanded, pulling her into the house and into a huge hug. Hermione smiled.

"I'm fine, Molly." She said, gently extricating herself. "Fine."

"Charlie?"

"Charlie's safe." Hermione reassured her. "I'm not exactly sure where he is, but wherever he is, he's safe."

"How do you know, if you don't know where he is?" Arthur asked, rising from the kitchen table.

"Because the dragons are looking after him." Hermione said. "And they gave me their word."

"Dragons can't talk." Ron said, coming down the stairs, Harry and one of the twins behind him.

"Not out loud, no. But with a certain bit of skill, legilimens can talk to them and be talked to."

"You're a legilimens?" Harry demanded. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. Left over talents from the Manor." She shrugged. "I've spoken to the dragons, and they swore to protect my family. He's fine."

"And Luke?" Harry asked.

"Luke's with them. He's got a dragon companion, Nassa, who wouldn't let anything happen to him. They're safe."

"That's not surprising," Molly said with a big smile, "That Charlie's son bonded with a dragon. I love grandchildren!"

"Um…actually, Luke isn't your grandson." Hermione said. She saw the possibilities running through Arthur and Molly's heads: she'd cheated on their son and gotten pregnant, Lucius raped her… "I was pregnant when I got back from the Manor."

"Ridiculous." Molly said. "You weren't showing."

"I wasn't that pregnant," Hermione retorted, annoyed that they'd gone with the unfaithful wife idea. What kind of person did they think she was? "And even if I was, the baby was placed wrongly in my womb, with his spine to mine, standing on my lower organs. I didn't show at all, throughout the entire pregnancy."

"Unlikely." Molly dismissed it. "No…you're not the type to cheat. And you don't know its from the Manor, it could have been Charlie's."

"She can count, mum." The twin said.

"There is no doubt that Luke is a Malfoy." Hermione said. "He looks nothing like myself or Charlie, and everything like his father."

"That bastard." Arthur swore. "And the boy's alive?"

"Last time I checked." Hermione said. "Why?"

"Just wondered how you could stand the monster." Arthur said. He realised his mistake immediately, and Harry actually took a step back, landing on the twin's foot. For once, Fred or George didn't make a sound, just stared wide-eyed at the furious woman about to verbally decimate his father. Then she spun on her heel and left.

Or not.

Harry ran after her, leaving Molly and Arthur to stare at each other. Then they glared at their son.

"Fred!"

"I wasn't the one who called her son a monster." Fred said, holding his hands up in surrender, before turning and going back upstairs.

"Hermione." Harry ran after her, grabbing her wrist as she ran up the path. She spun and looked at him.

"What? I'm on a schedule, here, Harry."

"They didn't mean it."

"They don't understand it, Harry, and that's okay. I hated Luke too when he was first born. But now I love him enough to risk everything for him if necessary, so if Molly and Arthur can't see past the fact he's a Malfoy, then that's their problem."

"I think they're having problems with the fact he's born out of rape." Harry said. Hermione shook her head.

"He wasn't though. Everything I did I did of my own volition."

"What?"

"Granted, I was a thrall at the time, but it wasn't rape, Harry. It wasn't ever rape."

"Being a thrall is abuse."

"Well, yes, it is. But that isn't all that surprising. It's like Imperio for toddlers." She wrenched her wrist out of his grip. "I'll see you later, Harry." She ran up the rest of the path and disappeared with a pop the moment she left the property.

&

"Didn't go well?" Draco asked as she appeared back at the Manor. She glared but didn't answer. "You ready?" She nodded sharply, and they apparated away in sync.

They appeared on the Mountain, in the middle of a raging storm. Hermione grabbed his arm and wrenched him away from the edge he was precariously close to.

"Come on!" She yelled. "We need to find shelter before we do anything else, wait for this to pass!" He nodded and let her lead him up the rocky paths to a sandy cave. There were bits of shell littered about, and Draco picked one up and turned it over in his hands, staring.

"Is this dragon shell?" He asked, eyes wide. Hermione nodded with a smile, sinking onto the sand.

"This is where Nassa was born." She said. "Luke was only a baby, crawling at best. Charlie was panicking because baby dragons eat everything they can get their needle like teeth into when they're born."

"Did you know they're born bum first?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded with a smile.

"Yeah. Witnessed it, too." Draco rolled his eyes, dropping the shell and moving to sit beside her.

"Course you have." He leaned his head back against the stone. "So…didn't go well with the Weasleys?"

"Just the parents." Hermione agreed. "First they thought I cheated on Charlie when I told them there was no way it was Charlie's son."

"Because you'd come into contact with a Malfoy after escaping, how?" Draco asked drily. Hermione laughed slightly.

"And then they started questioning how I could keep such a monster after giving birth."

"What?" Draco sat up straight and twisted to look at her. "They called him a monster?"

"I left." Draco snorted and sat back.

"That doesn't surprise me at all." He smiled, taking her hand and resting both hands on the sand between them. "You got all grown up out here." Hermione smiled, tilting her head to look at him.

"It's been an experience, that's for sure." She agreed. "Thing is, Draco, I get why they thought he was a monster. I hated Luke myself when he was born."

"No you didn't." Draco said. Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"No?"

"You hated yourself when he was born." Hermione snorted, but her eyes didn't leave his.

"And how do you know that, Mr Malfoy?" She asked.

"I can feel it." He said. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Hey, I'm not kidding. Remember the link?"

"It's not that good." She scoffed.

"That's because we buffered it." He took a deep breath. "Do you trust me?"

"Draco-"

"Do you trust me?" He asked again. She nodded.

"Always."

"Then relax. Watch, no hands." He smiled, and suddenly he was completely in her head, totally and utterly, the way they had that night. And she realised with a start she was in his.

Oh my god. Her voice echoed in his head. Draco?

It's the link, Hermione. He said. It keeps us a lot closer than you think. Mum saw it, and so did the Matriarch.

Dragons don't count, Draco, they see everything. Hermione argued. Then she hesitated. I see what you mean though. This shouldn't be this easy. You barely took a step and you were with me.

And if you tried you could do the same. Draco said. He squeezed her hand and she felt the strangest sensation, both from her hand and his. She relaxed, and just _was_ in his mind for a moment, and suddenly she was flooded with knowledge she doubted he wanted her to have.

You've known about this. She said slowly. You could feel it, even before I was on the Mountain. You worked to go there because of the dragons, but also because…

I didn't realise the link would be so permanent. Draco admitted. When you were at your most emotional, I felt it. When you gave birth, when you realised Luke was so scared of you…when the dragons nearly knocked you out? I near enough collapsed at work that day, you know.

The overflow. Hermione realised. They filled my mind and then they filled yours.

It was amazing, though. Draco said with a smile. Absolutely beautiful. Mind blowing.

Literally. Hermione giggled. Then she thought about what else she could feel. You're worried Luke won't want you for a dad, but you think that's stupid since you know I won't say anything.

And you won't say anything, because you know Charlie had a hard enough time dealing with Lucius, let alone me. And Luke can pick up on it anyway.

I think Luke probably already has. Hermione said quietly. He will have realised how much you two look alike. He's not seen Lucius so he doesn't know it could have been him.

Yes, but how aware is he of human reproductive mechanisms? Draco asked drily. Hermione nodded, conceding the point. Will you ever tell him?

There'll come a point when I don't have to. Hermione pointed out. Draco looked at her, and again it was that strange sensation of seeing herself and seeing him at the same time.

Are you going to run from this until you don't have to? He asked. Hermione was silent.

Sometimes I can't tell if I'm running or not. Hermione said eventually. I thought I'd faced up to having a baby and that it was either yours or Lucius'…but then I had the baby and I couldn't stand him, and he was so scared of me because he'd felt all that anger and fear for nine months without being able to hide…Charlie kicked me out and the Matriarch near enough threatened to liquefy my brains if I didn't do something. So I went out to Mountain and I remembered everything. Hermione bit her lip.

And I realised I'd run, and I realised what I'd done to Luke, and I realised it was your baby. And…maybe I am running now…but is it the wrong thing to do? Not telling them? Will it make them happier to know the truth? Or will Charlie become permanently suspicious of the fact that you hang around me as well? Will he constantly think we're having some affair? Hermione met his gaze, well aware he had the doubled vision. Draco, he won't let you stay. Weasleys'

Are all the same. Draco finished heavily. Do you want me to leave?

She couldn't lie, he was in even the deepest regions of her mind.

No.

So…don't tell him. Draco sighed. Will you lie when Luke asks?

No.

And when Charlie reminds you that you lied to him and accuses you of having an affair with me for however long it takes Luke to work it out? What then?

I don't know. Hermione said, freeing her hand from his and rising to her feet, pacing the sandy cavern. I don't want to lie. I can't tell the truth. And sort of one of us dying, this won't just go away. She met his gaze from across the cavern. I won't shut you out, Draco. She snorted. I couldn't, even if I wanted to.

I don't have to stay. Draco said, rising and meeting her in the centre of the cave, taking her hands. I'm in here too. He bent his head to rest his forehead against hers. I can see through your eyes, hear through your ears. It'll be like being right here, without Charlie's suspicions.

But what about this? Hermione asked, twisting her fingers in his and bring their hands up between them. Touch?

You can't have everything. Draco said softly. Hermione closed her eyes, clenched her jaw and swallowed. Hermione…

It isn't fair! She exclaimed. It isn't fair. I don't…but… she shook her head and Draco smiled slightly. I'm not in love with him, Draco. I love him, yes, how could I not? Besides what he's done for me, he's an amazing person and he's just…

Fantastic? Draco supplied with a wry smile.

Yes. But I'm not in love with him. She said. And while I don't always love you, I am. She stopped, and Draco offered an image of the two of them together. She pulled away from him and began pacing again.

That's just it! She railed. This bloody link makes it so bloody difficult to work out what's real and what's just a product of being _this close_ She pressed herself flush against him, To you every waking moment.

You aren't. Not every moment. Draco pointed out. She stepped back.

I am though. How easy is it to slip into my mind? How easy to get into yours? We're next to each other, Draco, our heads are pressed together without the barriers of skull and membranes and physical brain tissue, and all it takes is a slight lean in your direction and I'm in. I doubt you could block me if you tried, and chances are it'd put both of us in a coma anyway! How do I have a marriage with a man I love but am not in love with while this is between us?

Do you wish it never happened? Draco asked when he could get a thought in. she froze, and he was surprised by the vehemence of her reply.

No. Never. I learnt things from Lucius and Voldemort that I would never have learnt otherwise. I have a son. I have you. I have Charlie. For a year as a thrall I'd say that's not bad going.

But this link is inconvenient. Draco concluded. Hermione closed her eyes.

It's too big a deal to be inconvenient. Hermione said wryly. I don't know what this is, or how it affects us.

I will leave, you know. He said gently. I get it.

Luke's your son. Hermione protested.

He's Charlie's son. I'm in your head, remember? I know how Charlie was the first months, I know how he looked at Luke. I've not got a right to take that away.

You've got a right to know your son. Hermione said.

And I will. Through you. Draco pulled her into a hug and Hermione closed her eyes, pressing her face into his neck. He smelled like she remembered. And I'll visit.

Draco. The thought was out before she could work out how to stop it. Don't leave me.

When I'm this close to your mind? I couldn't, even if I wanted to. He pressed a light kiss to her lips. The storm's stopped, go outside and find the Matriarch. I'm going to go home and make sure we have all the deatheaters and that they're put away in Azkaban for a long time.

Draco. She tightened her grip on him and he smiled, raising his hands to pry hers off his shirt. Why?

Because I can see what you think and feel what you feel. Draco replied gently. And I know how torn you are. And because just because I leave physically doesn't mean I won't pop in from time to time. He smiled, kissing her forehead. Be safe. Pop in any time you like. He smiled and before she could stop him, he was gone from her mind.

The absence was like a punch to the stomach, and Hermione swallowed back a gasp. Draco pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair and kissing the side of her head.

I am always here, I promise. He whispered, and it was a moment before she realised his voice was in her head, not in her ear. And then he disappeared.

And Hermione sat down and cried.

And then she wiped her eyes, stood, and went outside to wait for the Matriarch.

&


	16. Chapter 15

Well, folks, this is it. I started this story years ago, on paper if not on the internet, and it's come a long way from when I adopted the story from Senya Lady of the Serpents. I hope she likes this. To everyone else, I hope you've also got your fair share of reading pleasure out of this. Istalindar.

&

7 years later

&

Guess who?

Hmm, let me think. Wait, no, you're in my head, waste of time. Hermione rolled her eyes. Hello Draco.

Miss me?

No. Draco grinned in her mind. He knew she was lying.

How's the family?

Doing well. Look. She focused on watching her son play Quidditch with Charlie. He'll be captain before I know it.

Thirteen. Draco agreed. How're you holding up?

Well, apparently, Luke was so pissed at me when he was being born that he kicked me all out of shape. No more kids for me. There was a silence, but she could feel Draco's sadness.

I'm sorry, Hermione. He said. She smiled.

It's okay, actually. Convenient. Draco chuckled. I don't know if I could give Charlie children. Luke was conceived in possibly the most important three minutes-

Hey!

Of my life. Hermione grinned at Draco's outrage. After that, a kid from sex with Charlie…I know I'd love him, or her, a lot, but…I wouldn't want to risk feeling Luke was more important.

He is more important. Draco said. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Anyway. Luke says thanks for the broom.

Did Charlie grumble? Hermione smiled at Draco's question.

Yes, he did. He thinks you're spoiling his son.

Luke's not his son.

Yes he is. Hermione corrected firmly. I love you, Draco, but that doesn't make Luke any less Charlie's son. He raised him.

That's not my fault.

I didn't say it was. She said patiently. Charlie is his father. One of them, at least.

You mean there's more? Draco asked, sounding outraged. Hermione grinned, well aware he was taking the piss.

Only you. She said fondly. How's the dream life going, anyway? Enjoying the benefits of being a good guy when the bad guy died?

It does pay rather well. Draco said with a grin. Hermione? Can I ask you something?

Well, you don't really have to ask. She said with a smile, watching her son. Draco knew her mind like the back of his hand, and she knew his.

Are you happy? Is this your fairy tale ending? Hermione smiled.

Maybe not the one from Hogwarts. But yeah, this is as close as I think I'm ever going to get. You?

I used to think I had to have it all to be happy. Draco said. But all or nothing isn't really a good gameplan.

It's a 50/50 thing. Hermione agreed.

Happiness is nothing more than a good health and a bad memory. Draco quoted. Hermione laughed.

I have both.

Then are you happy?

Why this sudden obsession about being happy, Draco?

Because. He didn't really have to answer more, she was in his head after all. She smiled and gave him a mental hug, which was actually more satisfying than a real one on occasion.

I love you, I love my son and I love my husband. I have all of you safe and sound, and Luke can grow up without Voldemort. I'd say I'm happy.

Really?

Really, Draco. She smiled. You need to come visit sometime, Luke's complaining.

I sent the boy a broom, what more does he want?

You, idiot. Hermione smiled.

And Charlie?

He's getting used to the idea.

What if we had loud monkey sex?

Draco! He grinned and laughed his head off, and Hermione couldn't help but join in. Come over this Saturday, we're actually having dinner. Draco hesitated, and she knew he was looking in her mind, checking for catches.

I'm not facing Molly Weasley. Luke looks more like me every bloody day. It's not worth my life. Draco said hastily. She knew he'd already resigned himself to it though.

I met Narcissa. Still do, actually, regularly. You have some of the cutest baby photos, Draco.

Oh, that is it. Draco said. I'm so reducing her allowance.

I'd like to see you try. Hermione snorted. Saturday at 7pm.

Ugh. Mental marriages are not all they're cut out to be. Draco grumbled.

Love you. She said sweetly. He smiled and hugged her.

Love you too. He replied, mentally kissing her before leaving her mind. The emptiness took a second to get used to, and then Hermione was back to peeling carrots.

His question about happiness had struck a nerve. Was she happy? She'd said yes, and he would have called her on it if she had lied. And she supposed she hadn't. She had all her boys who loved her and who she loved back, Voldemort was gone, and she was quickly making a name for herself as the best dragons expert around, even surpassing Charlie.

Who took the credit for her training, of course.

Life was good, love was good, and happiness was a combination of the two.

So, yeah. She was happy.

And the funniest thing was, this was nothing like how she imagined her life.

This was so much better.

&


	17. another note sorry

Hey folks. Just a little author note to explain what happened with this fic. It was meant to be Draco/Hermione, believe me. I am totally a DMHG shipper and am barely tolerant of other pairings (terrible, I know). Anyway. When I was writing, Charlie was a convenient way for Hermione to escape, and to pull it off they had to get married. But.

Now that they're married, I had the problem of getting rid of him. And I like my Charlie, he's a cool guy. So I kinda compromised. They stayed married (I couldn't kill him off without having to put in at least twenty pages of Hermione grieving, she does love the guy after all, and what is everyone else going to do while she's mourning for twenty pages?), but Draco and Hermione had a more of a mental relationship, which can be deeper, when you think about it. After all, he knows everything about her, utterly, and vice versa. And they still hang out, and they are in love. But Hermione won't hurt Charlie like that and while Luke probably wouldn't mind too much, he still wouldn't be particularly happy, and she won't do that to her son either. So.

It was meant to be a DMHG ship, and it still kinda is. But it's also HGCW ship, so I hope you guys can deal with that, too.

Oh, and by the way, someone brought this up in a review and while I'm probably being uncharitable, but because I'm actually very proud of this story I thought I'd clarify. I got the main idea for this story (Hermione being kidnapped by Voldemort) from a story by Senya, in which all you really saw was Hermione's return to the Burrow. The story itself was good, but she'd stopped writing and the idea intrigued me so I asked if I could continue it on. In that light, I wanted to say that all the dragon stuff and the stuff that actually happened at the Manor was all my idea. I suppose I'm nitpicking…if people enjoy the story then it shouldn't really matter, but I thought I'd just point that out anyway.

I hope everyone liked it. Istalindar.


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